


so this is love (what makes life divine)

by teacupfulofbrains



Series: pattonella!au [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Neurodivergent Logan, Virgil has magic, and i WILL be working that into every fic i write, bc i'm lazy and don't wanna alter it, bullet list fic, crossposted from tumblr (after god knows how long), deceit is called dorian in this au and he's the evil stepmother, it's MY fic and I get to make him stimmy it's what i deserve, obscure laws require marriages, patton is cinderella, patton's parents are dead bc this is a cinderella au, pattonella!au, technically there's character death here but it's barely mentioned, there's minor angst but they're good boys, they've earned their happily ever after, this author is a proud co-president of the LET LOGAN STIM club, thomas roman and logan are the three princes of the kingdom, virgil starts out as an evil stepbrother but he gets better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2020-07-11 22:23:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19935487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupfulofbrains/pseuds/teacupfulofbrains
Summary: all patton wants is one wonderful night at the royal ball before he returns to a life of drudgery serving his step-brother dorian. he just wants a chance to dress up and dance the night away at the palace. fortunately for him, he and his other step-brother, virgil, happen to catch the eyes of two of the kingdom's princes, and his night goes from good to great.(OR: the analogical/royality cinderella!au that no one asked for)





	1. pattonella i: the original saga

**Author's Note:**

> so this au, affectionately nicknamed the pattonella!au, was the very first thing that i ever posted in the sanders sides fandom! i figured it was finally time to crosspost it onto ao3, so here it is! fair warning: it is all lowercase and bullet-fic style, bc that's the way it appears on tumblr and it would take hours to go through and fix it all that i just don't have. content warnings will be on each individual chapter. i hope you all enjoy!!! 
> 
> cw: deceit being deceptive and more than a little manipulative to patton and virgil; he hits patton once and locks him up, but that’s about it

so, some background: thomas is the eldest of the kingdom’s three princes, incredibly charismatic and beloved by the people, and the one who’s next in line for the throne. logan is the middle child, and he spends his entire life studying everything he possibly can about the kingdom so that he will be able to help thomas run it efficiently. roman is the youngest prince, the captain of the royal knights, and a renowned adventurer across all the neighboring kingdoms. their father is the king.

dorian (aka deceit) is the older stepchild and the technical lord of the sanders manor, and an asshole to virgil and patton. virgil is the younger stepchild and dorian's biological brother, who starts out as kind of an asshole but gradually becomes more likeable. (this earns him dorian’s disgust, but he stops giving a shit.) he also has not-so-secret magical abilities. patton is the biological child of the (deceased) lord of the sanders manor, and the ever-cheerful servant of dorian. he's worked to the bone by his older stepbrother, but he remains kind through it all, somehow.  
  
patton sanders is the only biological child of lord and lady sanders, but lady sanders dies of an incurable illness (probably tb, it’s always tb that gets people in olden fairy tales) and lord sanders is heartbroken. little seven-year-old patton is heartbroken, too, but he does his best to keep a smile on his face for his papa. then his papa remarries, and the new lady sanders is nice enough to his dad. she's okay to patton in public, and in front of his father, but in private she treats patton with something approaching contempt.

she has two sons from her previous marriage: dorian (who’s three years older than patton) and virgil (who’s about patton’s age, maybe a couple months younger). dorian, much like his mother, is nice to patton in public, but it’s the fakest shit you’ve ever seen. in private, he reveals his true nature as a manipulative asshole who gets patton to do whatever he wants to earn half-hearted, shallow, meaningless praise. virgil is kind of a dick to patton at first, because dorian bullies him into it. (dorian tells virgil that if he doesn’t do what he says, dorian will tell everyone about virgil’s magic, which he can’t control that well, and virgil is _terrified_ of that prospect.)

slowly, dorian coaxes patton into doing more and more of the household chores as more and more of the staff have to be let go. virgil doesn’t really agree with this, but he’s too afraid of dorian telling everyone about his magic to speak up. (to be clear: it's not like there's some kind of anti-magic law like in _bbc merlin_ wherein virgil will be killed if anyone finds out about his magic. dorian just lies his ass off and says that everyone will reject virgil, and virgil is so terrified of that happening that he goes along with whatever dorian says. for a time, anyways.) but he's also not a complete asshole, so he tries to help patton out secretly where he can. it's only with little spells, and it’s not nearly enough to make a difference, but he still tries.

so this goes on for a while. then, a few days before patton’s fourteenth birthday, his father and step-mother are killed in a carriage accident. patton puts on a happy face in public, tries not to show his pain to virgil and dorian, but he spends every night for a week sobbing silently into his pillow.

in the will, dorian is named the heir of the sanders estate _only_ \- and this is the key part here - _**only until patton comes of age.**_ once he does, the estate is his, but dorian is _so desperate_ for control that he lies to patton and virgil, and tells them that he’s the lord of the manor, full stop. (he was the only one who actually read the will, since he found it first. he was the only one looking for it. he hides it from patton and virgil so they can't ever contest what he knows.) 

under dorian's rule, patton becomes a full-scale servant, the only one on the entire estate bc dorian fired the rest of them to “save” ~~(read: hoard)~~ money. virgil tries to do more with his magic to try and help patton, and this eventually leads to patton walking in on him magically washing the dishes. virgil is startled so badly that he breaks one. patton stands there for like fifteen seconds and then, starry-eyed, spends ten minutes telling virgil how _fucking **cool** he is, honestly, that was **so amazing!**_ virgil can't believe it, even as he fixes the dish with magic.

and that’s what tips virgil to stand up to dorian, because the only person left for dorian to tell is patton, and patton already knows and is fine with it. dorian starts to treat him exactly as terribly as he treats patton, and they both end up his servants, but they don’t care as much because they have each other for solidarity now. somehow, it’s a little less terrible with someone else helping you out. patton even shows virgil where the secret cache of magic books are in the estate library and helps him start to hone his abilities. 

this continues for several years, up until virgil and patton are twenty and dorian is twenty-three. then the actual plot commences.

* * *

meanwhile, up in the castle, our three dashing princes are running into a bit of a dilemma. thomas (twenty-four) is the unofficial heir to the throne. everyone knows that he's gnna rule the kingdom one day, but he hasn’t been officially named the crown prince yet. the reason for this is that, legally, the crown prince (or princess) cannot be named until their siblings are married off (if they have siblings). it’s some obscure law created to deter siblings trying to lead a coup against the rightful leader.

neither logan nor roman (twenty-two and twenty, respectively) aren’t married yet. thomas isn't married either, and he's perfectly willing to wait for his little brothers to find someone they truly love to get married to before he's named crown prince. the title isn't what matters to him, he just wants to serve his people. but their father the king is getting old, and weak, and it becomes apparent that they _need_ thomas named crown prince _asap_ bc otherwise, the kingdom will be thrown into chaos when the king dies.

thomas doesn’t want to force his younger brothers to marry, but logan and roman aren't stupid. they understand the gravity of the situation. even logan is fairly disinterested in romance/marriage in general and roman has always dreamed of being a dashing hero sweeping someone off their feet, they both ultimately want what’s best for the kingdom. thomas doesn't agree with this, but it's their decision, and he can't change their minds no matter what he says. so thomas decides that they’re going to have three days of festivities in the castle, a ball of EPIC PROPORTIONS.

officially, it’s to celebrate roman’s twentieth birthday, but in reality it’s to try and find suitable partners for logan and roman. the invitation is clear: _**every available bachelor and maiden** in the kingdom is to attend. _so when the invitation shows up at the sanders estate, patton is _**ecstatic.**_ he eagerly shows the invitation to dorian, who smirks, because this is _perfect_ for his power-hungry ambitions. 

patton, meanwhile, sweet, innocent patton, is just so excited to be able to go, to have a day off, to get to see the _castle!_ so imagine his disappointment when dorian just laughs and tells him that there’s no way a servant boy can possibly go to the royal castle. virgil steps in and tells dorian that patton is the biological heir to the sanders estate, so he has more right than either of them to attend. dorian casually reminds him who the “real” lord of the manor is and sweeps away, leaving an angry virgil consoling a heartbroken but determined patton. 

despite his determination to keep patton and virgil as his servants, dorian knows that if he shuts patton down cold his brothers might finally snap and rebel against him. he doesn't want that, so he tells patton that of course he and virgil can go, provided that they complete all their work and find something passable to wear. patton is so happy, he doesn’t even realize that dorian has nearly doubled their chore lists in order to make sure they don’t get anything done. he manages to find some old suits of his father’s, and when he goes into town to do the shopping he sneaks into the tailor’s and begs him to help alter the suits so that he and virgil can go to the ball. he doesn’t have any money, but he offers to do side work to make up for it. patton used to frequent the town when his parents were still alive and everyone in town still kind of has a soft spot for him, so the tailor says that if patton helps out with some gardening and embroidering, he’ll alter the suits free of charge.

patton works himself to the bone trying to get his chores done and also help out around the tailor’s. virgil, meanwhile, is growing _even more_ suspicious of dorian and his motives. not to mention, he doesn’t believe for a hot second that dorian will actually let them go to this ball. he knows his brother. so he spends a lot of time researching arcane magics that he thinks can help him and patton. (he also spends a whole lot of time poking around dorian’s affairs - covertly, of course.) he also takes on the lion’s share of patton’s chores so that he can do all his side work for the tailor. 

finally, _finally_ , the first day of the ball arrives, and patton is exhausted but so, _so_ happy because the suits are ready! and they look so handsome! even virgil has to admit that he likes the way the suit looks on him, and he’s anxious about going but also super excited. but on their way downstairs, they run into dorian, who circles around patton telling him how handsome he looks even as he tears the suit to shreds, and patton runs off sobbing.

he doesn’t even pretend with virgil, just tears the suit apart while he rips virgil’s new self-confidence apart, laughing as he slinks out the door to romance the princes. virgil takes a moment to be sad and cry, but he refuses to let dorian ruin their lives again. he goes to look for patton and finds him sobbing in the garden, running his fingers over the torn suit. he tells him to get up, because they’re still going to that ball. patton sniffles, asks how they’re going to go with no outfits, and virgil just smirks and snaps his fingers.

“i’m magic, patton. i got this.” 

virgil shows patton this new illusion spell he’s been working on, and suddenly they’re both dressed in impeccable suits and - what’s more - there’s a glamour on their face so that dorian won’t recognize them if he sees them. patton’s is light blue and virgil’s is dark purple, and patton hugs virgil and twirls him around because he’s happy, sure, but he’s also so proud of his little brother!!! 

virgil warns him that this is a complex spell to hold, and that he only has enough strength to hold it until midnight, so they have to leave before then. patton promises that he only wants to have some fun, and he’ll be ready to leave well before midnight. virgil just smiles and drags him out the door.

* * *

roman is having the time of his life, dancing around and flirting with all these different men and women, but he hasn’t found anyone he thinks he might love, and then.

_then._

_**t h e n.** _

then he sees this _absolutely gorgeous boy_ in a blue suit who looks absolutely starstruck by everything, and roman politely excuses himself from the boring nobleman he's pretending to smile at to go and talk to him.

“well hello there.” he makes this deep, flourishing bow. “i am prince roman, and you are?” 

“having the time of my life!” the boy responds earnestly, and that isn’t the answer roman was looking for but he finds he doesn’t much care. 

“well, would you care to dance with me?” 

patton just kind of gapes at roman, because the prince of the kingdom is asking him to dance with him and he doesn’t know what to say! he doesn't even know if he remembers how to dance.

“i - i haven’t danced since i was very little,” patton tells him. “like, seven, little.” 

“it’s alright if you have two left feet,” roman says, “i’m talented enough for both of us."

“i’m pretty sure i’ve got one of each foot, actually?” and patton is so delightfully confused that roman just laughs and pulls him into middle of the dance floor. patton squeaks in surprise, but he lets the prince lead him into a brilliant spinning dance. 

meanwhile, virgil is leaning against the wall, thoroughly disinterested, when someone else leans next to him. his eyes are focused on patton and roman whirling around the dance floor, though, and he doesn’t look at who he’s talking to. “so you got bored of the party too, huh?”

“quite. i find these things illogical and senseless.” 

“people are so confusing, honestly, navigating one conversation is like a chess game.” 

“you like chess?”

“haven’t played in years, but yeah, i was pretty good. why, you challenging me?” 

“if you think you’re up for it, there happens to be an excellent chess set in the royal library.”

virgil scoffs. “just cause they let us into the royal ballroom doesn’t mean we can go wandering through the palace.” 

the other person snorts, amused. “well, i cannot imagine that they’ll keep a prince out of his own palace, can you?”

virgil jumps away from the wall and stares, terrified and starstruck, because the person he’s been exchanging sarcastic banter with is none other than **_prince logan himself._** he stares for a solid fifteen seconds before realizing what he's doing. he quickly splutters and bows - “your highness!” - and logan just raises an eyebrow and smiles.

“do you still wish to take me on in chess?” 

virgil looks at patton, dancing the night away with roman, and looks back to logan and smirks.

“bring it, your highness.” 

they spend hours on one game, deliberating over each move and complimenting each other on particularly clever ones. just as virgil is about to make the final move, he sees that it’s eleven fifty-two, and he stands bolt upright, knocking his chair over in the process.

“i have to go, your highness, i - thank you for an excellent game.”

logan catches his wrist before he can run away. “please, wait, i know nothing about you, but that was the best game of chess i’ve had in years. promise - promise me you’ll come back tomorrow night?” 

honestly,virgil hadn’t been planning on it. the spell is a massive drain for one person, let alone two people, and he's worried that dorian will find them out somehow. but the prince is so kind, and he had so much fun, and he knows that patton will want to come back anyway. so even though he knows the risks, he smiles, kisses the prince’s hand, and says “of course i will.” 

he sprints across the crowded dance floor to find patton waiting at the door. they burst out into the cold night air and they start running, and they make it halfway home before the glamour drops. they lean together against a tree, wearing torn-up old suits again, laughing and breathless. “i know i said i only wanted one night, but i met the _most amazing boy_ , virge, his name is roman and -” patton cuts himself off, voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “ _oh my stars i spent the evening dancing with the prince._ ” 

“if it’s any consolation, pat, i spent the night playing chess with his brother. he’s good, too, but i think i can beat him.” patton turns to virgil with stars in his eyes and begs him to cast the spell again tomorrow night. virgil is more drained than he thought he was, but he still agrees because patton is so clearly head over heels for roman.

~~it has absolutely nothing to do with the sparkle in logan’s eyes and the flush in his cheeks and the confidence in his smirk, **absolutely nothing at all.**~~

they sneak into the house before dorian gets back and pretend they’ve been there all night, with patton begging him for details about the party. “i barely got a chance to talk to the princes, the youngest one spent the entire evening dancing with some pathetic boy in a blue suit and the middle one disappeared half an hour in,” dorian complains, as though the entire night has been a waste. it probably has, in his opinion. “it’s a good thing you guys didn’t go, it was a total waste of time.” 

virgil and patton share a secret smile behind dorian’s back.

they go back on the second night, and virgil makes the illusion even more elaborate than the first night. just like the first night, patton spends the entire night dancing and talking with roman and virgil spends the entire night playing chess with logan. just like the first night, virgil jumps up right before he’s about to make the final move and runs out. and just like the first night, logan stops him with a hand on his wrist. it's the gentlest of touches, but virgil feels like an iron manacle is around his wrist. (he doesn't mind at all.)

“tomorrow night is the final night of the ball. my absence has not gone unnoticed, and they will expect me to dance with someone at the final dance. will you be my dance partner?” virgil blushes, but says that he’ll definitely come back and dance with the prince. he meets up with patton outside again, only to discover that he has, in fact, been asked to the closing dance by roman. 

virgil promises patton that they can go, but he warns that the glamour is super taxing. they’ll have to be super careful if they don’t want dorian to get suspicious, because the minute he finds out everything is over.

it’s the third night of the ball, and virigl has whipped up his most elaborate outfits to date. they're trimmed with silver and everything - the works. patton and roman don’t dance right away this time, instead choosing to go for a walk through the royal gardens. eventually, roman tells patton that he’s the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen, and patton blushes. “clearly you’ve never looked in a mirror, then, prince roman.” roman turns _**scarlet**_ and reaches under his jacket, pulling out a necklace with a golden medallion on it. the medallion has the royal crest on the front and another crest etched on the back, the personal crest of prince roman himself. 

roman hands it to patton, saying he wants him to have it as a memento. patton balks, because he can’t just take something from the youngest prince like that. he can’t ever repay it! but roman just smiles and says, “there is one way you could repay me.”

he cups patton’s cheek, leans in, and asks, “ _may i?_ ” 

patton presses his lips against roman’s and whispers, “ _you may._ ”

virgil, on the other hand, jumps straight into his chess game with logan, because come hell or high water they are _finishing tonight’s game._ they do finish, just barely in time - virgil checkmates logan at the last minute. logan is silent for a long minute, and virgil worries he's offended the prince by beating him. but instead, logan laughs, and he looks so pretty that virgil leans in on impulse and just kisses him. logan is too stunned to respond, and virgil pulls back almost immediately, panicking, because _oh my god he just **kissed the prince without permission -**_

but logan just smiles and pulls him into another one, and another, and another. just before they go downstairs for the final dance, he tucks the black queen into virgil’s pocket with a smile. 

“a keepsake of this evening. i hope you will accept it.”

virgil kisses logan again, one last time, just to remember the feeling of his mouth and of being loved for when he and patton are back on the sanders estate. he thinks that, given enough time, he could love the prince, but patton won't abandon his childhood home for anything. and virgil refuses to leave his brother to suffer under dorian alone. he loves his brother too much. still, a memento of tonight can't hurt.

“of course i will.” 

patton and virgil both dance with their respective princes for the final dance. then, before they know it, the clock strikes midnight, and they both freeze. virgil does his best to maintain the glamour, but he just doesn't have the strength. the magic keeping their anonymity dissipates, and patton makes direct eye contact with dorian. he knows instantly that dorian **_knows_** , and his blood turns to ice in his veins. patton and virgil both blurt hurried apologies and run from the palace, but it’s too late, because dorian knows, and their lives are over. 

sure enough, when they get back, dorian slaps patton full in the face. when virgil tries to shield him, he throws virgil against the wall. virgil is dazed, although conscious, but unable to stop dorian from manhandling patton. dorian sees the medallion that roman gave to patton and tries to take it, but patton fights back - for the first time in his life, he fights back against dorian. he's impressed by the show of strength, but also infuriated. dorian ends up locking patton in his room, but when he goes to deal with virgil,he finds him conspicuously absent.

(virgil, meanwhile, is breaking into dorian’s office looking for a very specific document, because he knows that if the princes come looking, he needs something to back himself up. they're getting out from under dorian's thumb.)

back at the castle, roman and logan tell thomas about the handsome strangers they found at the ball, and thomas just kind of shakes his head.

“you two mean to tell me you both think you’ve found the love of your life and, not only do you know _nothing about them_ , you have _no way of finding them?_ ” 

roman and logan just kinda look at each other and facepalm. thomas resists the urge to slam his head into a wall. _why are his brothers such useless homosexuals._ someone save him.

“do you remember _anything_ about them that we can use?”

roman remembers the medallion at the exact minute that logan remembers the chess piece, and they both gasp. when they tell thomas, he just rolls his eyes. “door-to-door search it is, then.” 

when they eventually come to the sanders estate, dorian is the only one there to greet them. he presents roman with an expertly made facsimile medallion, even as patton slams his fists against his locked door so hard that they start to bleed. roman doesn’t seem to remember his dance partner having such cold eyes or such a lifeless smile, but dorian and patton look very similar. besides, dorian has the medallion, and roman doesn’t know what else to do.

as they're about to leave, however, he lifts it up to put it on dorian. the crest spins around, revealing the backside, and roman realizes that his personal crest isn’t there. all at once he has his sword out, point at dorian’s throat. “this isn’t mine. mine has my crest on the back, and this does not.” even as he speaks, the paint begins to flake off the wooden coin dorian used to fake it. 

dorian tries to offer pathetic excuses, but logan cuts him off quickly. “roman, shh, listen - do you hear something?” roman listens, and he can hear the faintest banging noise, along with some muffled shouting.

“who else is here?” 

“no one, your highness, i live by myself,” dorian purrs. roman is having none of his bullshit.

logan goes upstairs to check, since roman is preoccupied, and finds a door barred with a plank of wood. someone is slamming against it frantically, shaking the door with the force of their blows. he picks the lock easily and pulls the plank off. the door slams open, and a young man falls into his arms. his worn-out shirt is the same color as the suit roman’s dance partner was wearing. logan helps him to his feet and he bows. “your highness!” logan notices the gold medallion hanging from his neck, and he knows that this is the boy roman’s been searching for.

“i do believe my brother is downstairs looking for you.”

patton snaps up, mouth agape. he hardly dares to hope. “he … he is?”

“we came all this way. he’s downstairs, if you’d like to see him.” 

patton all but _flies_ down the stairs, heart pounding the whole time. the second roman sees him, the sword lowers, because patton has the medallion on - _his_ medallion. he knows because it’s reversed from all the running, and he can see his crest clear as day on patton’s chest. roman crosses the room in five quick steps and sweeps patton into his arms.

“hello there, my love. what do you say we get out of here?” 

dorian, of course, interrupts, desperate to hold on to his power at any cost. 

“he - he’s nothing but a servant boy! and someone of royal blood cannot marry someone who isn’t at least a nobleman.” patton looks heartbroken (which angers roman further) because he's _finally_ gotten a chance at a happy ending, and dorian is tearing it away from him again! 

“good thing he’s a nobleman, then,” a new voice says. everyone looks over to see virgil coming down the stairs with a piece of paper in his hands. dorian’s face drains of all color, because virgil is holding the will of the late lord sanders. he knows he's fucked. 

“the sanders estate was only supposed to be yours until the biological heir came of age. patton turned eighteen two years ago. for _two years_ you’ve been holding his title when you’re not of noble blood! _and_ you’ve treated the rightful heir like he’s _nothing._ that’s a crime if ever i’ve heard one!” 

logan makes a motion to the guards that accompanied them, and they seize dorian and lead him away. once he's gone, virgil snaps his fingers, smirking. bright blue light wraps around patton, transforming his worn-out old clothes into an elaborate blue suit that looks strikingly familiar. it’s no illusion, this time - patton’s clothes actually morph around him.

“patton,” roman whispers, pressing his forehead against patton’s.

“that’s my name.” 

“it’s a beautiful name. perfectly befitting of a beautiful person such as yourself, lord sanders.” roman leans in and kisses him, and patton has never been so happy in all his life. 

logan smiles, watching his brother be happy with the boy that he loves. when he turns to virgil to thank him, he sees the black queen sitting pretty in virgil’s palm.

“you - you’re - “

“i have magic,” virgil says. “i can’t always control it, but i’m trying. and i’m not of noble birth, so - so i’m not worthy of you, your highness, but -”

logan cuts him off with a kiss midway through. “i don’t care about the status of your birth. i care about you.” virgil lets his magic wrap around himself, and suddenly he’s wearing a beautiful purple suit.

“my name is virgil, your highness.” 


	2. pattonella ii: electric boogaloo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the boys take a carriage ride to the palace and everyone is a useless home of sexual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: dorian (deceit) is mentioned in passing a couple times, misunderstandings.

patton and virgil move into the castle after they’re rescued at the princes' insistence. they’re expecting that this royal wedding is gonna be taking place almost immediately; after all, the whole point of the marriage is so that thomas can be named crown prince, right? virgil is very very antsy about this because parties and big elaborate ceremonies are not his scene (plus he’s spent his entire life around dorian, who is anything but the model of healthy interpersonal ineractions), and patton is more than willing to marry roman and get his fairy-tale ending but virgil’s nerves have him worried. 

so imagine their surprise when they get in the carriage (roman and logan on one side, patton and virgil on the other) and roman starts immediately excitedly talking - not about wedding plans, but about showing them around the castle. he starts making plans for all kinds of little outings to get to know patton better (dates, picnics, dances, etc.). he even starts talking about some ways logan can get to know virgil, and virgil is so confused. he just kind of looks at patton, and then at roman, and then he interrupts, “why are you bothering with all that?” 

roman stops and he and logan both look at virgil, who falters slightly but keeps going. “i mean, um, don’t - don’t you just need to marry us? as - as quickly as possible? knowing who we are doesn’t matter, right?” 

logan looks at roman, and then at virgil, and then he asks, “whatever gave you the idea that we were going to marry you without getting to know you?” 

virgil kind of bites his lip, not used to everyone in the room paying full attention to him, and so patton (having learned to read virgil’s social cues to a t) steps in and explains what dorian had told them, about how the whole ball was just an excuse for the princes to be married off so thomas would legally be crown prince. roman’s hand tightens around the grip of his sword and there’s murder in his eyes. 

“i’m gonna _kill that guy_.” 

“you will _not._ you will allow justice to take its proper course,” logan says, with a roll of his eyes and a tone in his voice that suggests roman is usually this dramatic. “if we were to marry you without knowing anything about you, it would be no better than an arranged marriage. the point of the ball was so that we wouldn’t have to be married off to someone we don’t know. we intend to get to know you first, unless you have some objection?” 

he raises an eyebrow and virgil shakes his head, suddenly feeling like the world’s biggest idiot. before he can say anything (or try and teleport out of the carriage, although that would have been risky as hell), logan reaches out and takes his hand. he smiles, gently, and it’s the softest expression roman’s ever seen on logan’s face. 

(that’s because he doesn’t remember little baby logan, two years old and already precocious as hell, holding his newborn brother like he’s the most precious thing in the world, smiling like a fool, with four-year-old thomas sitting right next to them in case roman falls. logan insists that he doesn’t _need_ to be watched, he can take care of the new baby _all on his own_ , and thomas just smiles and ruffles his hair and says _of course, logan, you’re a very mature two-year-old._ ) 

“i’m sorry,” virgil whispers. logan leans across the carriage and kisses his forehead. 

“it is not your fault. you were fed all manner of lies your entire life. i promise i will do my best to dispel them. please, never hesitate to ask me for clarification. i am more than happy to provide it.” 

“yeah, that’s because he’s a walking library,” roman stage-whispers. “trust me, you won’t be asking after five minutes of listening to him wax poetic about bees.” 

“bees are important -”

“oh, mercy, here we go again.” patton is laughing and virgil cracks a smile and even logan has to smile a little bit. ( _ ~~it has nothing to do with how cute virgil looks when he smiles and how pretty his eyes are, **shut up roman you’re exactly as lovestruck as i am!**~~_ ) 

on the way there, the carriage wheel hits some kind of rut, and the entire thing lists to the side. virgil is thrown into patton’s side (it’s a miracle that logan manages to stay semi-upright), and when they get out to inspect the damage, the two left-side wheels are broken. the spokes have snapped clean in half, and the driver has calmed the horses but there’s no way they’re repairing that carriage. 

“i guess we’re walking, then?” roman says. logan rolls his eyes, but doesn’t seem fazed, and then virgil clears his throat. 

“if - if you want, i can try to repair the wheels?” 

“are you sure, kiddo? we don’t want you over-exerting yourself,” patton says worriedly. he remembers how exhausting the illusion spell can be for virgil. virgil waves him off, because that spell is long and complicated but repair spells are incredibly easy. not to mention, dorian broke a lot of shit (and patton’s kinda clumsy), so repair magic is as easy as breathing for him. 

roman, patton, and logan stand well back (at virgil’s request) as he lifts his glowing hands. he doesn’t even need to verbalize the spell, and before they can blink purple light is lifting the carriage off the ground. the wheels repair themselves and reattach in midair, and just like that the carriage is good as new. 

virgil turns around and patton just full on _tackles_ him. he can’t help it, he’s _so proud_ of his baby brother! virgil laughs and awkwardly pats at his back, and after patton sets him down logan comes up to him and places his hand on his shoulder and squeezes and smiles. 

“that was wonderful, virgil. truly marvelous.” 

(for some reason, that simple smile and touch makes virgil’s face a brilliant, burning red when patton’s exuberant hugs didn’t do anything. he wonders what’s wrong with him.)

~~(spoiler alert: it’s because he’s in love.)~~

they make it back to the castle without any more hitches, and roman is practically _vibrating_ he’s so excited. patton latches onto his arm immediately and they make a beeline for the door, clinging to each other and laughing and looking sappily romantic as hell. logan offers his hand to virgil to help him out of the carriage. 

virgil hops down and he braces himself for more physical contact, but instead, logan offers his hand. “you’re … you’re not gonna …” he doesn’t really have the words so he just points at roman and patton, draped all over each other like climatis on a trellis. 

“you don’t seem very comfortable with overly expressive displays of physical affection, virgil. i wouldn’t wish to do anything that would make you uncomfortable in the slightest. and i must confess, i’m not one for grand physical romantic displays either.” logan is blushing now, and virgil’s heart is pounding. 

he takes logan’s hand and laces their fingers together, and then he kisses logan’s cheek, just once, just quickly, before he loses his nerve. logan turns _absolutely scarlet_ and stammers for an entire minute. 

“well, well, well! what have we here?” and suddenly roman is leaning over logan and grinning like a madman as he elbows logan. “i’ve never seen you speechless before, logan! should we call the doctor? are you ill?” he presses his hand to logan’s forehead to check for a nonexistent fever, cackling. logan shoves roman away from him and pulls virgil towards the palace. (virgil shoots patton a smile over logan’s shoulder, and patton winks even as roman wraps his arm around his shoulders.) 


	3. pattonella iii: the under-budget sequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which logan helps console virgil and patton gets lost in a hedge maze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: anxiety attack, mention of fear of bees/spiders

roman and logan have successfully made it back to the castle, accompanied by virgil and patton. the latter is completely starstruck, because patton's always thought that the sanders manor was big but it’s absolutely nothing compared to the castle. it’s just - it’s _so big_. patton tips his head back trying to look at the whole thing as it looms against the sky, overbalances, and falls over. roman runs over to help him up, but patton doesn’t seem fazed at all. 

("is he alright?" logan asks. virgil snorts and rolls his eyes. 

"he’s my brother, and i love him, but he’s so fucking clumsy it’s a miracle he’s still alive."

logan looks at his brother and laughs. "roman’s gonna have a field day with that, i can already tell.") 

they make it into the castle, and roman flags down the nearest servant. "excuse me! do you know where prince thomas is?"

"the eldest prince is currently in a meeting with some of the king's advisors. if it's urgent, i can bring him a message?"

roman is tempted to tell her that _yes_ , it’s urgent, it’s the most important thing in the world. realistically, though, he knows that thomas has had to take on more and more of actually running the kingdom since their father fell ill. (frankly, he doesn’t understand why thomas hasn’t been named king yet, forget crown prince, but he’s also secretly pleased - after all, if thomas had been crown prince already, he never would have met patton.) 

he tells her that it’s not urgent, it can wait, and then he realizes that he can use this time to show patton around and quickly stops caring. patton gets the most adorable starry-eyed, wonderstruck look on his face when he sees something new for the first time and roman is so _very very gay_. 

“it appears we’ve got the entire afternoon to ourselves, my love,” he says, turning to patton. “what would you like to see?” 

“there are gardens, right? can we go back there?” patton has always loved gardens and flowers. he remembers bringing his mother flowers, because they always made her smile, and they’re always so bright and cheerful that even when he isn’t they make him happy. 

"of course!" roman offers patton his arm (ever the dashing gentleman) and escorts him outside. logan watches them go with a smile, and then turns to virgil to find him breathing a bit too heavily, eyes just a bit too wide, hand shaking ever so slightly in logan’s. logan has never experienced it himself, but he thinks this might be what the beginning of an anxiety attack looks like. 

carefully, slowly, so as not to startle virgil, logan squeezes his hand to get his attention. “would you like to see my room? it’s a good deal quieter than here, and much less busy.” virgil nods, and it’s a little bit jerky, a little bit hesitant. logan leads him not towards the main staircase, full of life and chatter, but to a smaller door, almost unnoticeable amongst the tapestries adorning the walls. he’d memorized the castle’s structural layout when he was small, and he knows where all the secret passages and servant’s staircases are. they reach his room in a matter of minutes.

logan’s room is next to the library. it’s spacious, with multiple large windows to let in as much natural light as possible, multiple overflowing bookshelves (even though he is, again, _**right next to the library**_ ), and a door next to the bed (it’s the biggest bed virgil has ever seen) that leads to roman’s rooms, with his crest painted on it in bright red.

logan sits on the bed, lets virgil sit next to him. virgil’s shaking a little more obviously now, and there are purple sparks dancing in his irises, and logan wonders if maybe he should let go of virgil’s hand. when he tries, virgil just grips it more tightly, so he doesn’t. 

“are you … alright, virgil?” virgil doesn’t really know how to respond, because he’s never been asked this before. patton’s never seen him anxious like this ( ~~read: he’s never _let_ patton see him anxious like this~~), and he’s used to working through things on his own. but now logan is here, watching him carefully, like he wants to help but isn’t sure how, and virgil doesn’t see the point in lying. 

“it’s just - a lot. i get anxious, sometimes, i get - overwhelmed.” his heart is racing. is logan going to regret the choice he made? “and it’s kinda dumb, cause you live in a castle and it’s always like this, but -”

“i assure you that your feelings are not dumb, virgil. if it makes you feel more at ease, i, too, am sometimes overwhelmed by the inner machinations of the castle.” virgil’s breathing starts to become less erratic, and he tips forward to lean his head on logan’s shoulder. logan carefully wraps his free arm around virgil, rests his chin on virgil’s head. virgil taps his fingers against logan’s hand, steadily counting off a rhythm that logan recognizes as his own heartbeat. he takes deep, slow, steadying breaths that he doesn’t need until he hears virgil start to mimic him. 

they stay like that for a few minutes, until virgil’s breathing has settled back to normal. “thanks, lo,” he mutters, and he sits up when he feels logan stiffen. “are you - did i say something wrong?” logan is flushed red, deliberately not letting their eyes meet, and virgil realizes that he has not said something wrong, but perhaps something very, very right. 

“no, it’s just - the nickname. i find it cute.” virgil blushes, too, and logan kisses his forehead again. (virgil doesn’t know why logan likes that spot so much, but logan’s mouth is soft and his eyes are warm and virgil ~~is hopelessly gay~~ doesn’t care all that much.)

“patton and roman went to the gardens, right? i wanna see them too, if you don’t mind.” logan stands, pulls virgil to his feet and squeezes their hands lightly together. 

“of course, virgil.” 

* * *

roman leans against a tree, watching patton admire the gardens. he’s sprinting from one plant to the next, skimming his fingertips along the petals, burying his nose in the flowers, laughing when he touches a bush and a kaleidoscope of brightly-colored butterflies explodes out all around him. 

roman watches patton spin around, sunshine reflecting off the iridescent blue fabric of his suit and warming the soft brown of his hair and soaking into his skin. he watches the way it illuminates patton’s dark brown irises, showing the glowing golden ring around his pupils. he watches the smile on patton’s face, pure and bright and probably the realest one to grace his face in years, and he is _so, so, **stupidly** in love_ with this man. 

“and you make fun of me,” someone says. roman’s a soldier, so his reflexes kick in automatically. he spins around, one hand throwing a blind punch and the other one reaching for his sword. logan is not a soldier, but he is a prince, and trained in self-defense, so he catches the punch and deflects it. “nice to see you, too, little brother.” 

roman rolls his eyes, because logan only calls him “little brother” when he’s teasing or legitimately pissed off. his body language says “teasing” as he leans next to roman, watching virgil crouch in front of a cluster of brilliant purple irises. “like you’re any better, logan. how long did it take you to stop stuttering after he kissed your cheek this morning?” 

logan elbows roman, who elbows him back, but they’re both grinning. patton, meanwhile, has found a truly massive pair of rosebushes, absolutely coated with flowers of all colors on thornless stems. patton pulls a pale pink rose off easily, not noticing that his sleeve has torn on the branches. he sniffs it, tucks it behind his ear, and follows the hedges, lost in the splendor and beauty of everything and the warmth of the sunshine on his skin. 

“did you mention the rose maze to patton?” logan asks, realizing that they can no longer see him. virgil has stopped looking at the irises, instead looking around in confusion for his brother. “did you mention how easy it is to get lost in that maze? how large that maze is? how he should not, under any circumstances, go in there by himself?” 

roman pales. “no. no, i did not.” 

logan rolls his eyes, but he also squeezes roman’s hand in comfort. “worry not, roman, we will find him.” sure enough, the two of them (and virgil) find the piece of patton’s sleeve stuck in the bushes, and virgil inhales sharply. 

“the maze isn’t dangerous,” logan reassures him, “it’s just very, very large.” 

“but not so large that the three of us can’t cover it in a day,” roman interjects, shooting a pointed glance at his brother. “we will find patton, don’t worry.” logan realizes his mistake, but virgil is already pushing off into the maze. they catch up with him at the first two-way fork. 

“i’ll take the left, you guys take the right,” virgil says. 

“what if you get lost?” roman asks. “logan has memorized the plans, but if you go off by yourself, we’ll have to find both of you.” virgil snaps his fingers and incants a spell in a language that even logan, who is fluent in close to ten languages, does not recognize. purple light spirals from his feet to his knees and then fizzles out. he takes three more steps, leaving shimmering purple footprints on the grass, footprints that vanish in front of the princes. when virgil makes eye contact, his irises have a distinctive purple sheen. 

“i’ll just retrace my footsteps,” he says, and logan still looks hesitant so he adds, “if it makes you feel better, i’ll cast the spell on logan, too. if i find patton or get hopelessly lost, i’ll retrace them and find you two. i promise.” logan nods, and virgil lifts his hand towards logan. he casts another spell, and purple light wraps around logan’s legs as well. it feels prickly and strange but not bad, and even after the light fades logan’s legs tingle with pins and needles as though his legs had fallen asleep and are still waking up. 

logan takes a few steps to test it out. he doesn’t see anything, but virgil smiles. “yours are blue,” he comments. “dark blue. it’s a pretty color.” logan turns his head away, towards the right fork, trying to hide the blush already seeping into his face. (he’d forgotten how pale he is, how easily he blushes, how obvious it is when he’s embarrassed. roman will never let him hear the end of this - he blushes just as much as logan does, but he’s tanned from his adventures and far less obvious about it.) 

“i’ll catch up with you guys later, ok?” logan turns back to virgil, only to find that he’s also blushing deeply and obviously. he gives logan a small, shy wave before fleeing into the maze. 

“he’s exactly as lovestruck as you are,” roman comments. 

“do you have a plan for finding patton?” logan asks. he’s deliberately ignoring roman’s taunts, and judging by the disgusted sigh his brother gives, he realizes this. 

“it’d probably be easier if we had a bird’s-eye view,” roman comments. logan rolls his eyes, but he’s also rolling his shoulders, stretching his arms and legs out as he approaches the least-flowered hedge in the vicinity. roman may be a soldier and a knight and an adventurer, but logan is a voracious climber. he scaled the hedge deftly in a matter of seconds, peering over the entire hedge maze. 

“i fail to see anything useful,” he calls, dropping nimbly down next to roman. “i suggest we start with the most common wrong turns.” roman has spent his life playing in the maze, but he doesn’t know it nearly as well as logan, so he follows his brother’s lead. 

virgil, meanwhile, is combing through the maze, looking for his brother. he’s keeping his cool, making sure that he doesn’t accidentally set the hedge maze on fire or blow something up or lose control of his magic in some other equally problematic way. the further he gets into the maze without encountering patton, the more he panics, and then he hears something - a faint humming noise. virgil recognizes the tune from long hours helping patton in the garden, so he follows it. he rounds a corner and suddenly, there patton is, sitting on the ground with a pink rose in his hair and a hand-woven crown of multicolored roses in his hands. 

“virgil!” he says, happily. he stands up, lets virgil hug him, and puts the crown on virgil’s head. it’s the perfect size, and even though virgil knows it’ll probably attract bees to his head (and he is terrified of bees the way patton is terrified of spiders), he wears it anyway, to make patton happy. 

“patton, is this where you’ve been?” 

“yeah, i got lost, so i decided the best thing to do would be to pick a place and wait to be rescued,” patton says. virgil sighs, relieved that patton is okay, and when he turns around the purple of his footsteps shines behind him. “aren’t you lost too, now, virgil?” 

“nah, we’re gonna retrace my steps and find logan and roman.” virgil follows his path, leads patton along until he finds the soft blue glow of logan’s footsteps, and they find the princes quickly. logan is halfway up one of the hedges when he hears roman sigh, “patton!” when he turns, virgil is peering up at him. 

“nice view from down here,” he jokes. logan is so shocked he falls off the hedge. (luckily, he isn’t up that high.) 

later that evening, with patton and virgil exploring the library, logan turns to roman and asks, “how does one plan a . . . romantic outing?” 

roman’s resounding squeal of excitement echoes through the corridors. 

“not so loud!” logan hisses. “i just . . . virgil didn’t believe that i was going to romance him. i wanted to show him that he deserves to be romanced.” roman knocks his shoulder into logan’s, smiling; despite his older brother’s flaws, it’s clear that he cares for virgil and wants to make the occasion as memorable as possible. 

“well, i would suggest that you find out the things that virgil likes. then, once you know what they are, arrange a day that accounts for as many of his likes as possible while minimizing things that make him uncomfortable.” 

“that’s … surprisingly astute, actually,” logan murmurs. roman scoffs. “thank you, roman. i mean it.” 

roman smiles. “any time, logan.” 


	4. pattonella iv: that's what you get for waking up in vegas (and by vegas we mean the castle)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the boys are soft in the morning and virgil and roman show off for their boyfriends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: obnoxious fluff, the briefest mention of dorian (deceit), combat training session, minor mentions of injury/anxiety

virgil wakes up in a bed, as opposed to the floor, and his first thought is that he is going to _murder_ patton. they only have one bed (if you can call a sack stuffed with hay on the floor a bed) and they’re supposed to switch off who sleeps on the "mattress" and who sleeps on the floor. more often than not, however, virgil wakes up in the bed when he knows for a _fact_ that he should have been on the floor, especially in the winter, when the floor is like sleeping on a sheet of ice. 

virgil tries to sit up, but the blanket is a lot heavier than he remembers. the mattress and pillows are a lot softer than he remembers, too - he’s sinking into them. the blanket is a thick comforter, the kind that’s stuffed with feathers to make it even warmer, and there are additional knit-wool blankets piled on top of him. 

it hits him, all at once. the ball, the chess match, _kissing logan_ , dorian finding out, the princes breaking down the door, roman sweeping patton into his arms, logan’s smile, the feel of logan’s lips on his cheek and his forehead _~~and his mouth~~_. virgil also remembers falling asleep on one of the soft chairs in the library, so he has no idea how he wound up in a bed. he finally manages to push himself upright, and then he looks over the side of the bed and freezes, because _what_. 

logan - _prince_ logan, the _son of the king_ , one of the _future rulers of the kingdom_ \- is spreadeagled on his back, sound asleep on the floor in a patch of early-morning sunlight, head propped on a decorative pillow. his glasses are half on his forehead, half hanging off the floor, and his hair is a disaster. his mouth is open, tongue poking out just a little, drool leaking down one side. one hand is over his face, the other one flung out at his side. he’s wearing dark blue pajamas, and one side of his shirt has ridden up, showing the curve of his hipbone and the soft paleness of his stomach.

virgil squeaks, bright red, and buries his face in his hands, only to pull them away in confusion. he’s no longer wearing the magical purple suit he created yesterday - he can see it folded on the chair. it’s reverted to the worn-out old clothing that it was before. virgil is wearing soft pajamas, the same dark blue as logan’s, and they fit well but the sleeves are too long, pooling around his hands.

he registers all these facts separately, but the force of it hits him like a trainwreck, all at once. he’s in the royal castle, in one of the princes’ bedrooms, wearing the prince’s pajamas, in the prince’s bed, with the prince himself snoring softly on the floor. virgil shakes his hands free of the sleeves and slaps his hands against his face, because he’s dreaming, right? he has to be. 

logan mumbles from the floor, and virgil leans over the bed to peer at him again. logan’s face twitches, and he turns his head away from the sunlight. “mmmnh,” he groans. “no, don’ - don’ m’x that, ‘t’ll ‘x’pl’d … mmmmmmm …” virgil leans his head against his hand, watching logan sleep-talk. he thinks it’s adorable. (he also thinks he’s kind of a creeper, watching logan sleep like this, but he’s deliberately ignoring that part.) 

he’s not sure how long he stays there - he practically falls asleep again himself. out of nowhere, logan jerks awake with a snort, sitting bolt upright. “ _that’s for playing, not eating!_ ” virgil yelps, toppling backwards onto the bed, covering his eyes with his forearm. “roman, did you have another nightmare?” his voice is rough and sleep-heavy. 

“i don’t know about a nightmare, but i’m pretty sure i’m dreaming,” virgil mumbles. the bed depresses as logan climbs onto it, and then there’s a body next to his. logan is very carefully not touching him, but he’s as close as he can be without making contact. virgil kind of wants to hold logan’s hand, but he doesn’t know if logan is staying away for his own sake or for virgil’s, so he doesn’t. 

“good morning, virgil,” logan says, and there’s a new softness in his voice. “i can assure you, this is no dream.” 

“why’d you give me the bed?” virgil asks. “i don’t even live here. i slept on the floor most of my life, i could have taken it another night. i would’ve been just fine on the chair in the library, too.” 

“you would have awoken with stiffness and soreness had you slept on the chair. and as for the floor? i promise you this, virgil. as long as i am here, you will never have to sleep on the floor again.” virgil moves his arm, looks at logan to see logan looking back at him. his glasses aren’t anywhere to be found, but he’s still looking at virgil. 

“you slept on the floor,” virgil pouts. 

logan laughs. “one night will not kill me, virgil. it’s likely i would have ended up there, anyway. sleep doesn’t always come easily, so i sometimes resort to laying on the floor and counting the stars.” virgil tips his head back to look at the ceiling, but the bed has a canopy, so he’s forced to hang his head over the side. he hadn’t noticed it before, but the ceiling is dark, deep blue, splattered with gold and silver. it’s a perfect recreation of the night sky, the stars in silver paint, and the ones that make up constellations ringed in gilded gold. 

“it’s gorgeous,” virgil breathes. 

“it was hell to try and paint it, but i managed.” virgil sits up, looking at logan, who still hasn’t moved. “yes, i painted it myself. it was a struggle, trying to convince father to let me, but i did. when i cannot sleep, i lay on the floor and count them. i know exactly how many stars are on that ceiling, but i always fall asleep before i count them all.” 

“sounds like a good plan,” virgil says, absentminded. the sunlight tangles with the soft fluff of logan’s hair, and he wants to touch it. he wants to run his fingers through it, feel the texture beneath his fingers. 

“go ahead, then,” logan says, and virgil is looking at his face upside-down but he thinks that logan’s smiling, and oh lord have mercy he said that out loud. 

“i - i’m sorry!” virgil yelps. “i don’t want you to think i’m creepy, or anything! i just -”

“virgil, it’s alright. i don’t mind, i promise.” virgil stretches one hand out, hesitant, and brushes logan’s head. his hair is exactly as soft as virgil has always imagined that a prince’s hair would be. logan shuffles, and virgil yanks his hand away like he’s been burned. logan drops his head into virgil’s lap and tips it back to meet his eyes. virgil’s heartrate triples. 

he weaves the fingers of his left hand through logan’s hair, and it’s soft and weightless like silk. carefully, he brings his other hand up as well, and when logan doesn’t make any pained noises, he starts to play with it. he carefully cards his fingers through logan’s hair, gently scratching at his scalp, and logan practically melts in his lap. he closes his eyes, and virgil hums quietly. 

“the bed’s huge. we could have shared.” 

logan’s face colors. “i wasn’t sure if you’d be alright with that. you fell asleep before i could ask, and i wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“future reference? go ahead. i don’t mind,” virgil says. logan laughs, once, a short little noise in the back of his throat. 

“okay, virgil.” they lapse into silence, but it’s not awkward. it’s the first non-awkward silence virgil can remember having. 

“this is nice,” logan says, after a while.

“yeah,” virgil murmurs. “it is.” 

“could you get used to a life like this?” logan asks. “a life here? with me? and roman and patton, of course. if you don’t want to be here, i won’t force you, but -” 

“are you stupid?” virgil cuts in. “of course i could. this - you - it’s more than i ever dreamed was possible. of course i want to stay here. if -” his voice falters, but he keeps going. “if you’re sure you’ll have me.” 

“i wouldn’t have anyone else,” logan says. his eyes are still closed, but he’s smiling, even as virgil leans down over him and kisses him. 

* * *

patton wakes up in a bed, warm and comfortable. he wakes up because the sunlight hits his face, not because of the rooster crowing or dorian shouting, and he throws himself out of the bed. he’s going to have to have words with virgil for taking the floor three nights in a row. 

patton’s mind is completely consumed with the thoughts of what he has to do. he has to feed the chickens, he has to water the horses, he has to milk the cow, he has to make breakfast before dorian wakes up. is today laundry day? he thinks it might be, he doesn’t remember the last time he tried to hang the quilts to dry - 

he makes it down the hall and halfway down the staircase before he realizes that this is not, in fact sanders manor. he’s not wearing his clothes, but a pair of red pajamas, the softest thing he’s felt in years. he’s not wearing his glasses, either, and _that_ explains why everything is kind of fuzzy. 

two young women come down the stairs, and patton is about to bow to them (politeness is key, right) when they notice him, and then they curtsy to him. patton doesn’t understand why they’re doing that, and then one of them says. “good morning, lord sanders!” patton almost corrects her, almost tells her that he’s not the lord of the sanders estate, but then he remembers roman cupping his face and whispering, “it’s a beautiful name, befitting of a beautiful person such as yourself, lord sanders.” 

“lord sanders?” the girl says again. “is there something we can help you with? are you all right?” 

patton rubs at his eyes to try and clear them up (even though he’s long since learned it’s pointless) and smiles. “well, actually, if it’s not too much trouble, i think i’m lost! could you point me back to prince roman’s chambers?”

“you just have to go back up this staircase, take the first right, and then walk down the hallway until you see the red door.” patton rubs the back of his head awkwardly. 

“um, actually, i really can’t see that far in front of my face without my glasses! could one of you, y’know, maybe guide me there?” 

“as you wish, lord sanders.” one of the girls continues down the stairs, and the other one stays. “may i touch you, lord sanders? to guide you?” 

“why wouldn’t you be allowed to?” patton asks. the serving girl looks at him like he’s grown a second head. 

“we’re not allowed to touch the royal family without permission,” she says, in a tone that makes it clear that this is fairly common knowledge. “you are a guest of the prince, and nobility yourself. it would be improper.” 

“that seems kinda silly to me,” patton says. “of course you can touch me if you’re trying to help me!” he offers his arm to the girl, and she takes it with the slightest hesitance, hands almost weightless on his forearm as she guides him back to roman’s rooms. 

“thanks so much!” he chirps. she curtsies again, smiling. 

“of course, lord sanders.” she hurries away, and patton pushes the door open only to run straight into someone else’s chest - roman’s chest. 

“patton!” roman says, and there’s relief in his voice as he wraps his arms around patton. patton leans into the hug willingly, letting roman’s hands settle on his waist and roman’s chin rest on his head. “i woke up and you weren’t here.” 

“i guess i forgot where i was for a sec, there!” patton laughs. “i didn’t … i didn’t realize that i wasn’t at home. i forgot that i didn’t have to get up and do chores.” his hands tighten just slightly where they grip the back of roman’s shirt, and suddenly roman’s arms tighten in response. 

“patton, i know it’s going to be hard. but trust me when i tell you, that’s over now. he can’t hurt you anymore. i swear on my life.” patton laughs into roman’s shoulder, but it’s watery. he doesn’t know why he’s crying - happiness, he thinks? all he knows is the pressure of roman’s arms around him and the soft scent of roman’s clothes and the feeling of roman’s lips as he carefully kisses patton’s head over and over and over again. 

patton rubs at his eyes, and roman’s hands slide up to his face. his thumbs press gently against the skin below patton’s eyes and smear the tears away. he leans in, lets their foreheads touch, rubs his nose gently against patton’s. “might i have the honor,” roman murmurs, voice low, “of kissing you good morning, lord sanders?” 

“you may,” patton responds, and roman laughs, a low, soft noise in the back of his throat. he doesn’t hesitate before leaning in and pressing his lips to patton’s. it’s gentle and careful and everything a good-morning kiss should be, and happiness bubbles up in patton’s chest and throat and curls around his brain, fuzzy and warm. he hasn’t felt this in a long time. 

he could get used to feeling it again.

“i am so happy i met you,” roman says. he’s pulled out of the kiss, but only barely; his lips brush against patton’s with every word, and patton shifts his head just enough to pull roman back in. they kiss in the doorway for a few more minutes, lazy and unhurried. when roman pulls away again, patton whines involuntarily, but roman’s mouth lands on his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his eyes, his jaw. he covers patton’s face in soft kisses, and patton is _melting_. 

he can’t remember the last time he was on the receiving end of this much love. he knows virgil loves him, but virgil’s not nearly as expressive as patton is. roman matches patton perfectly - if anything, he exceeds it. patton brings one hand up to weave his fingers into roman’s soft bedhead. 

roman places one last kiss on his mouth, and patton presses his hand over roman’s. roman carefully twists his hand and laces their fingers together. “we should probably go and wake up our brothers, hmm?” 

“if you insist,” patton laughs. he leans his head onto roman’s shoulder, and it fits perfectly in the soft curve of roman’s collarbone. he’s never been in love, but he thinks that, maybe, this might be what it feels like, or at least the beginning of what it feels like.

they walk into logan’s room to find him lying on the bed, his head pillowed in virgil’s lap as he leans down to kiss him. roman’s arm is soft around his waist, but the pressure of his hand on patton’s hip is comforting. “good morning, lovebirds!” roman laughs. virgil pulls away from logan’s face quickly, but he’s careful to make sure that he doesn’t disturb logan’s head. 

logan, without hesitation, flips roman off. roman laughs, disentangles himself from patton, and picks up the decorative pillow from the ground. “virgil, you might wanna move,” patton says. roman straigh-up hurls the pillow at them, but virgil flings his hand up and the pillow bounces harmlessly off a glowing purple shield. logan sits up at that, and they all stare at the shimmering barrier.

no one says anything, and virgil looks mildly horrified. he lowers his hand, jerks it back like he’s been burned, and the barrier explodes into a puff of purple sparkles. “i am - so sorry,” he gasps. “it - i - reflex, i’m so sorry, your highness -”

“roman.” 

“wha -”

“you don’t call logan by his title, do you? unless he likes that.” roman wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and logan groans loudly. “you’re gonna be family eventually, virgil. you don’t have to be nearly so formal with us. it’s not like we’re gonna eat you alive, or whatever.” 

“i’m - i’m still sorry -”

“don’t be! that was the coolest fucking thing i’ve seen in a long time!” roman says, throwing himself onto the bed with such force that the ripples bounce logan and virgil up and down. “i didn’t know you could do that!” 

virgil looks kind of uncomfortable under the undivided attention of the youngest prince. “um, i - it - it’s a reflex. i’ve never really tried to do it in a life-threatening situation before.” 

“you should see the stuff he does when he’s trying, though!” patton says. “he’s incredible! he’s so cool, honestly, he does so much!” 

“i’m not all that good,” virgil interrupts, shooting a death glare at patton. patton ignores it in favor of sitting on the bed next to roman, who immediately wraps an arm around patton’s waist and pulls him against his side again. patton happily curls against roman - he’s always been touchy and affectionate, and he respects virgil’s boundaries but sometimes you just need physical affection. 

“you aren’t exactly the best judge of your own abilities,” logan says. “you’ve had this power all your life, have you not?” 

“yeah … “

“there we go, then. things that seem fantastical and strange to us are second-nature for you. simply put, you have become desensitized to the nature of your power. as an unbiased, outside observer, i can tell you that it’s simply incredible.” virgil’s cheeks turn pink, which is the most color patton’s seen in his face in years. 

“unbiased my ass, logan,” roman laughs. patton’s ear is close to roman’s chest, so he doesn’t hear roman so much as he feels him. the sound reverberates through his chest, and patton happily snuggles closer, practically pulling himself into roman’s lap. roman’s arm snakes under his legs and suddenly patton _is_ in roman’s lap. “you’re so head-over-heels for him, it’s a wonder you aren’t doing constant somersaults.” 

logan looks at patton, makes eye contact with roman, and raises a single eyebrow. “and you expect us to believe you’re any less smitten?” 

roman is incensed, but before he can say anything, there’s a knock on the door that connects logan’s room to roman’s. “your highness? are you in there? you have a training session with the royal guard this morning. have you forgotten?” 

roman groans, loudly, buries his face in patton’s hair, and continues to groan. patton sneakily tilts his head and kisses roman’s throat. the groan cuts off with a very unprincely squeak, and unseen by patton roman’s entire face goes slack, eyes glazed over slightly. 

“your highness, they’re waiting,” the voice calls again. 

“i’ll be right down,” roman says, dazed, patton still gently pressing kisses against his neck. virgil snickers, and logan pretends that he isn’t watching intently from the corner of his eyes. ( _ ~~holy hell, is virgil cute.~~_ ) 

patton leans away from roman’s neck, and roman stares down at him with a lovestruck smile. patton grins back, sunny as ever, and he seems completely unaware of what he’s done to roman. 

( ~~spoiler alert: he’s completely aware.~~ )

“do you want to come and watch?” roman asks. “the arena’s open after the training session! it’s the perfect place for virgil to show us what he can do!” 

“are you sure you aren’t just looking for an excuse to show off your battle prowess?” logan mumbles. roman, still staring lovestruck at patton, doesn’t hear his brother’s jab. virgil, however, leans his head into logan’s shoulder. 

“nice one.” 

patton and virgil don’t have shirts that aren’t shredded to pieces, so they borrow clothes from roman and logan. virgil finds a black shirt with dark blue embroidery around the hem - nothing flashy, but he likes the texture of the fabric. logan dresses in simple, dark colors, which is perfect for virgil, even though the sleeves are still too long. roman, on the other hand, is all loud colors and bright patterns. patton wears one of roman’s bright red shirts, a blue jacket, and a gray scarf tied around his neck. he’s a fashion disaster. 

(roman thinks he looks adorable, even as he cringes at the mismatched color scheme.) 

the arena’s seats are completely empty. logan leads virgil and patton across the packed-dirt floor to the box where the royal family sits to observe tournaments and such. there’s a canopy pulled over it to shield them from the sun, and the royal crest is painted in gold on the front of the box. 

“are we allowed to sit here?” patton asks. 

“i am royalty, patton,” logan says. “so long as you are with me or roman, you can go wherever you please.” they sit down, virgil in the middle with logan on his left and patton on his right. logan puts his hand palm-up on his right thigh, decidedly not looking at virgil. the invitation is clear; it’s virgil’s move. 

he looks at patton, who shoots him an encouraging thumbs-up, and then he slides his hand into logan’s. logan looks at him in shock, and virgil smiles. logan smiles, too, and shifts his hand so that their fingers are linked together. 

“there’s roman!” patton squeals, and there he is. roman is wearing a chainmail shirt and leather boots, plus his trademark red sash, sword at his hip. he stands in front of a row of five or six guardsmen. he’s speaking to them, but patton can’t hear what they’re saying. 

the guards slowly fan out into a circle around roman, and they all lower their lances to point at him. patton grips the edge of the box, halfway out of his chair. “what are they doing?” roman just turns, slowly, talking at a slow, unhurried pace. his posture is calm and relaxed, but patton can see his hand twitching next to the hilt of his sword. 

“training,” logan replies. he hasn’t stood up, seems completely unfazed by it. “roman will not be seriously injured, i can assure you.” 

“will he be injured in a way that is not serious? all injury is serious, logan!” patton’s heart is suddenly racing, because he’s only just found roman. he can’t bear the thought of losing him. 

“he’s a prince, pat, they’re not gonna do anything bad,” virgil soothes. one of the guards lunges forward, and roman doesn’t move, and the lance is level with his heart and _patton’s_ heart is in his _throat_ \- 

and then there’s the sharp clang of metal on metal (virgil winces), and roman’s sword is up and in his hands, blocking the lance. the guard draws it back and lunges again, but roman is ready this time, and smacks the flat of his blade against the guard’s hand. he yelps and drops his weapon, and roman takes the opportunity to plant his foot in the guard’s chest, knocking him flat on his back. the point of his blade makes it to the guard’s throat, and roman looks up at patton. 

he winks, and patton takes a step backwards, dropping back into his seat with a heavy thump. another guard lunges at roman, and he wheels around, sword in hand. “i told you he would be fine,” logan says, but there’s a note of admiration in his voice. “despite his many faults, roman is an excellent swordsman. there’s a reason he’s the youngest knight’s captain in three centuries.” 

roman is all fluid grace on the battlefield. he bends backwards in half to avoid the swing of someone’s blade, plants his hands on the ground, and flings his legs up, kicking the guard in the face. roman completes the flip and lands on his feet, sword at the ready. 

“he’s really flexible, huh?” virgil mutters, carefully elbowing patton. logan, seemingly oblivious, nods. 

“oh, yes, roman is ridiculously limber. he has spent his entire life training to be as skilled a fighter as he possibly can be.” 

patton can feel his entire face heating up as he watches roman sweep his sweaty hair off his face with a shake of his head even as he’s fighting the two remaining guards at once. “wow,” he whispers, fanning his surely-bright-red face with both hands. “he’s - that’s - wow.”

roman disarms the last two guard and slams the end of his hilt into one of their faces before he himself is disarmed. roman and the last guard square off in hand-to-hand combat, and roman emerges victorious, but not without taking a punch to the face. 

“roman!” patton leaps over the edged of the box and runs towards roman. the guards roman’s beaten have been hovering around the edges of the arena, but the second they see patton, they step between him and roman and draw their swords, pointing them at patton. 

“who are you?” one of them demands. “how did you get here? what do you want with the prince?” 

patton stammers, not sure what to do and very nervous about the proximity of cold, sharp metal to his soft, vulnerable throat. 

“stand down!” roman calls, sprinting across the arena. he claps a hand on each of their shoulders, and they look back at him hesitantly. 

“your highness?” 

“this is patton,” roman says, and his voice is different now. his tone drips with authority and power. it’s the voice of a captain - the voice of a prince. “also known as lord sanders. he is with me, and he is not to be stopped or harmed. you will show him the same respect and deference that you show to me.” 

“yes, your highness.” the guards bow their heads to roman, and then they turn to patton and bow from the waist. 

“please forgive us, lord sanders,” one of them says. “we meant no disrespect.” 

“it’s - it’s really okay, guys,” patton says, waving his hands frantically. “you don’t have to -” 

“they do,” roman says, quietly. “patton, you deserve nothing less than the utmost respect.” patton’s heart is still racing, and it’s not just from running across the arena. roman dismisses the guards, and all six of them head out of the arena. he smiles at patton, sweat dripping from his hair even as he shoves it out of his eyes with one hand.   
  
“so did you see me fight? what did you think?” suddenly, the regal, princely aura is gone, and roman is back to his bubbly self. his eyes are shining, his cheeks are flushed with exertion, and there’s a bruise forming along his left cheekbone. patton brushes his fingers hesitantly over it.

“you got hurt,” he says. roman tips his head so that patton is cradling it in his hand and covers patton’s hand with his own gloved one. he smiles softly, and patton’s ninety-nine percent sure that his heart is never going to beat at a normal rate ever again. 

“i’m the captain of the knights, love. i’m going to get hurt sometimes. i go on quests, i fight bad guys, i save people. it’s what i do. but i always come home alive, and i always will.” 

he leans in and kisses patton, and he tastes like salt and sweat. patton closes his eyes and lets roman wrap his free hand around his waist. he’s taller than patton, but not by much, and he’s much stronger from years of training. 

“you were incredible,” patton says, in between kisses. “i - it was so cool. you’re amazing. i think - i think i might - i think i love you more than - more than before.” 

“is that even possible?” roman laughs. “i’m pretty charming, if i do say so myself, but i am nothing compared to you.” 

“i’m not that great,” patton says, and he means it as a joke but roman’s eyes are wide and his voice is serious. 

“do - do you not realize how alluring you are, patton?” 

before patton can answer, logan calls across the arena. “if you two are _quite_ finished with your obnoxious display of affection?” 

patton turns to see logan and virgil walking towards them, hands still linked. virgil is rubbing something between the fingers of his free hand, and as they approach, patton sees that it’s the black chess queen logan gave him. “you guys still wanna see what i can do?” patton recognizes the repetitive movements of his thumb over the chess piece as virgil trying to stave off his anxiety. 

“you don’t have to,” patton says, and he’s shocked to hear logan say it at the same time. they make eye contact, and patton nods at logan, just once, barely even moving his head. thank you. logan raises one eyebrow, barely even a twitch, in acknowledgement before he turns back to virgil. 

“if you are truly uncomfortable, you should not feel obligated to do anything. we can wait until you feel more comfortable,” logan says. virgil shakes his head. 

“no, it’s just - i’ve never -” he slides the queen into his pocket and holds out his hand. he whispers something, and a purple fire crackles to life on his palm. logan watches it with an intense, awed expression. “this has always been a secret. i was always told that if anyone ever found out, i’d be completely rejected by everyone. that wasn’t a chance i was willing to take.” 

patton watches the familiar purple sheen of magic in virgil’s irises. logan bends over, peering at the flame, and virgil smiles, flow and careful. “do you want to touch it?” 

logan looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “can i?” 

virgil recites another spell, and the fire briefly glows a little more brightly. “it won’t burn you.” logan carefully inserts his index finger into the fire, and roman sucks in a sharp breath. but virgil’s breathing is steady and sure, and logan carefully adds another finger, and another, and then his entire hand is encased in shimmering purple fire. 

virgil brings logan’s other hand up, carefully presses them into a cupped shape, and tips the fire into his hands. virgil pulls his hands away, and logan is holding the purple fire. virgil narrows his eyes, and it turns blue. 

“it’s incredible,” logan whispers. virgil’s smile slowly gets bigger, slowly gets more confident, and patton grins. he hasn’t seen virgil look like this in a very long time. 

“what else can you do?” roman asks. virgil lifts one hand, palm facing logan’s, and chants, carefully rotating his hand. the fire in logan’s hand rises up, twists and changes shape, forming a long, thin stalk with leaves curling off. a glowing bud forms on the top, slowly swelling larger and larger until it bursts. 

delicate petals curl outwards, and suddenly there’s a perfect imitation of a lily woven out of blue and purple fire sitting in logan’s hands. logan’s eyes are comically wide and his mouth is even wider. “it’s beautiful,” he whispers. 

virgil spins his index finger in a slow, lazy circle, and the fire spirals up, up, up and weaves its way around logan’s head. he creates a braided circlet of fire around logan’s head, in the same place a crown would sit, with a bright red flame in the center of his forehead. logan stares at virgil like he hung the moon.

“your highness,” virgil hums, and there’s something slightly distorted about his voice. it ripples with magic. logan turns pink, and patton snickers. he’s _smitten_. 

“can you do anything else?” roman asks. virgil snaps his fingers and the fire evaporates. he presses his palms together and pulls them apart, slowly, carefully, ice crystals form in the space between his hands. he lets the amorphous ice crystal hover over his left palm as he swipes at it with the index and middle fingers of his right hand, shaping it. 

within a few minutes, there’s a tiny ice statue of roman on his palm, sword held aloft. he sets it in roman’s waiting hands. “it’s stunning,” roman says. logan’s entire face is bright red, and his eyes are starry. 

“it certainly is,” a new voice says. “color me impressed.” 

virgil jumps three feet in the air and whirls around, purple light fading as the ice statue dissolves into vapor. there’s a young man crossing the arena, and there’s something about him that makes patton stand up straight and take notice. his eyes are bright, and his smile is kind. he’s wearing simple, unassuming clothes, just a white shirt, brown pants, brown boots. still, there’s something in the way he walks, in the way he squares his shoulders, the way he carries his head. 

what gives it away is the is the simple circle of gold on his head, a flat band of medium thickness with a single gemstone, a shimmering rainbow opal right in the center of his forehead. technically, he shouldn’t be wearing it, not until the official ceremony, but no one is going to stop him. 

roman waves him over, bouncing up and down. logan pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, smiling. virgil takes a step backwards, carefully placing logan between himself and the newcomer. patton takes a deep, steadying breath. they all say his name at the exact same time in varying tones: roman excited, logan reserved but fond, virgil biting back anxiety, patton breathless and full of wonder. 

“thomas!” 

“thomas.” 

“t-thomas.” 

“ _thomas._ ” 


	5. pattonella v: you know i talk too much (or at least write too much dialogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which thomas meets his brothers' love interests, a secret is revealed, and virgil has a very strange dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mild anxiety, mentions of dorian (deceit), mentions of patton and virgil's past, mentions of nightmares

thomas scrubs his hands over his face and sighs. he’s really not looking forward to today, because today, he has to go and meet the boys his brothers brought home. 

it’s not that he’s particularly anxious about meeting new people - he was when he was younger, but as the heir to the throne, it’s not really a personality trait he kept very long. (and even when he _is_ nervous, he has his baby brothers at his side, and it’s hard to feel nervous around logan’s calm, cool collectedness and roman’s brash, daring confidence.) 

no, the problem here arises from the fact that he’s expected to _approve_ of them. the thought makes thomas’s stomach turn, because he’s basically supposed to look them up and down and then, what? get the rubber seal they use to mark approved documents and stamp them on the forehead? these are _people_ , he has to treat them with the respect they deserve. 

really, it’s no wonder he’s been avoiding this confrontation. 

but, like it or not, he _is_ the crown-prince-to-be, and their father is ill. there’s no one else who can do this. more than that, however, he’s an older brother. he’s known logan and roman their whole lives, since they were tiny little things blinking up at him from a bundle of blankets, and he’s protected them as long as he’s known them. 

(he remembers holding logan, peering down at his face as eyes too wide and intelligent for a newborn watch him back. he remembers fighting with a nursemaid when she tried to take logan to feed him, even going to far as to bite at her hand when she reached for _his_ brother.) 

(he remembers logan’s jam-sticky toddler hands curled around his fingers as he boosts him up to peer into roman’s cradle. he remembers holding a sobbing roman and a shaking logan, their heads against his chest as he hums, trying to keep them calm, even though he’s exactly as terrified of the thunderstorm outside as they are.) 

he trusts their judgement, of course he does. logan is level-headed, he thinks things through, he wouldn’t pick someone if he was even the littlest bit unsure. and roman’s learned to read people well in his years of adventuring - it’s a necessary survival skill. he _knows_ this, and yet. 

and yet thomas still worries about them. he worries every time he walks into the library and finds logan passed out on a table full of books and charts, glasses buried under mountains of papers. he worries when roman comes home from his quests or patrols with fresh bruises and scrapes. 

(he worries the most when roman has to be carried back, conscious or unconscious, because he knows logan will camp out in the infirmary ward and snap at anyone who comes close and sleep even less than normal, and then thomas will worry about both of them.) 

thomas takes a deep breath, pushes his hands through his hair, tries to let out some of the nervous energy rattling around his skull. he knows roman is scheduled to be outside training with the guard, so he figures he can catch them there. 

roman enjoys wearing the fancier, flashier, showier clothes that they are often required to wear for formal court events. logan dresses in a presentable manner because he wants to be taken seriously, because he _needs_ to be taken seriously. thomas likes simple, comfortable clothes, because they put him at ease and the people around him as well. he settles for a plain white shirt, comfortable pants, comfortable boots. 

at the last second, he snags the circlet typically worn by the heir to the throne. it’s flat and golden and narrow and relatively thin, with delicate engraving running around it and a single gem that sits iridescent in the center of his forehead, a shimmering rainbow opal. 

(technically, he’s not allowed to wear this, because he hasn’t officially been named the crown prince. but no one is going to stop him, and roman always pesters him to look more royal, whatever that means.) 

he makes his way to the arena, smiling at the people who stop him to murmur greeting or ask him questions. he passes some of the newer royal guard members, all looking thoroughly defeated, and he quirks one corner of his mouth up in a smile. “roman?” 

“in the arena, your majesty,” they tell him. thomas almost corrects them (your majesty is reserved for the king and the heir, and he’s neither), but he lets it go when he sees a purple glow coming from the arena. 

there are three people standing in the center, all crowding around a fourth person holding what looks like a purple flame. thomas can pick out logan’s distinctive glasses and roman’s trademark red sash, but he doesn’t recognize the other two. one of them is pulled flush against roman’s side, so he figures that’s probably the one roman was dancing with, and the other one - 

the other one is pulling logan’s hand into the fire. 

thomas almost bursts into a sprint, almost tackles logan away from the stranger, almost shouts for the guards. but then he sees roman’s relaxed stance, hand not even close to his sword, and logan doesn’t yank his hand out of the fire screaming. he doesn’t even seem remotely perturbed, in fact. 

thomas watches as the person next to logan, the one holding the fire, presses logan’s hands together and dumps the fire into them. logan’s eyes are shining, and thomas watches as the boy next to him (the magician next to him?) lifts a shining hand. silver words spill from his tongue, words that thomas has never heard in his life, and the fire begins to change. 

in no time at all, logan holds a fiery flower in his hands, and then there’s a crown of fire sitting on his head. thomas leans against the fence surrounding the arena and watches this stranger bring miracles to life in his palms. 

he pushes off the fence and walks towards them, hears roman exclaiming about the statue in his hands (ice? glass? thomas can’t tell, but the light catches it perfectly, beautifully). “it certainly is,” he calls. “color me impressed.” 

all four of them instantly turn to look at him. roman waves excitedly with his free hand, logan makes eye contact with him and nods (he’s smiling, and it’s a genuine smile, thomas can tell, and that alone is enough to take the edge off of his nerves a little). the boy at roman’s side is watching him with rapt attention, mouth slightly open in awe and shock. 

the fourth person, the magician, the one who’d been handling fire without a single trace of fear on his face, has stepped carefully behind logan, eyes just a fraction wider than they were before. thomas is hurt, a little, but then he notices how the boy’s eyes keep flickering to his forehead instead of his face, the way he keeps glancing from thomas to logan to thomas to logan.

perhaps he’s not afraid of thomas the _person_ , but thomas the _prince_ , thomas the heir-to-the-throne, thomas the older-brother-of-the-person-he-likes. 

thomas can work with that. 

they all call his name as he approaches, and roman untangles himself from the other boy (he’s wearing an assorted mismatch of roman’s clothing, thomas notes) to run up and greet him, grasping his upper arms. 

“thomas!” he cheers. “you’re wearing the crown! it’s about time, man!” 

thomas laughs, ruffling roman’s hair even though it’s matted and sweaty and roman absolutely hates it when he does that. “yeah, well, i thought i might as well try and look professional, given that i’m meeting two of the most important people in the kingdom today.” 

the boy who’d been standing with roman turns pink and presses his hands to his face. he has glasses, frames slightly more rounded than logan’s, and tousled brown hair, messier than roman’s. his face is covered in freckles, more than either of his brothers, and he has round cheeks and wide eyes and he’s absolutely adorable. thomas can see what roman fell for instantly.

“hello,” thomas says, offering his hand. “i’m thomas, roman’s older brother. you are?” 

the other person looks nervous; they begin to bend over as though they’re going to bow to him. but roman gives him an encouraging smile, and he straightens and he reaches out to take thomas’s hand. there’s a variety of small scars littering his hand, thomas notes, and his handshake is hesitant, like he isn’t used to the gesture. “my name is patton!” he says, and his voice is exactly as bright and sunny as thomas was expecting it to be. 

“he’s the heir to the sanders estate,” roman adds in, and patton’s pink face turns red. 

“not - not really,” he mutters. roman steps away from thomas’s side and cups patton’s face with one hand, smoothing his thumb along his cheekbone.   
  
“yes really,” the unnamed magician says, stepping out from behind logan (but only a little bit). thomas notes that he’s wearing one of logan’s shirts, hands curled in the sleeves. if thomas didn’t know better, he’d think that he was hiding how much they were shaking. “you are the biological son of the lord of the sanders estate. it’s not your fault certain parties conspired to keep it from you.” 

thomas holds his hand out, and the magician flinches away from him. logan puts a careful hand on his forearm, and he peers at thomas through the bangs hanging low and thick in his face. his eyes are dark brown, but there’s something about them, something compelling, and when he tilts his head the sunlight reflects off his irises and, for a fleeting moment, there’s a purple shine to them. 

“i’m virgil,” he says, quietly. he doesn’t take thomas’s hand, and thomas lowers it casually, trying to put him at ease. “i’m, uh, i’m patton’s -”

“he’s my little brother!” patton says, smooth and easy, and his response is almost too fast. thomas shrugs it off. 

“it’s very nice to meet both of you,” he says, and patton smiles broadly. virgil lifts two fingers to his temple and flicks them away from his head in a strange kind of salute. thomas sees the way patton’s eyes keep flicking to roman and virgil’s fingers keep twitching next to logan’s. they’re nervous, and if they keep looking to roman and logan for support they’ll never be comfortable around him.

and he desperately wants them to feel comfortable around him. 

“how are you enjoying the castle so far?” he asks, testing the waters. patton immediately launches into a long-winded spiel about getting lost in the rose maze and being rescued by virgil. virgil adds a few small comments here and there, but lets patton do almost all the talking. 

(another memory: ten-year-old logan, standing too stiffly in front of a group of people, face frozen, hands twisting carefully out of sight as he tries to regain his composure. eight-year-old roman, throwing his arms around logan, sweeping in and carrying the conversation, making intentional mistakes so that logan can step in and correct him and slowly take his control back.) 

“i’m glad you’re enjoying it.” patton nods, shoving his glasses back up his face. thomas looks at logan and roman, trying to figure out how he can word this without throwing them off. “can i ask a favor?” 

roman looks at him out of the corner of his eye. logan raises a single eyebrow. 

“of course!” patton says.

“i’d like to talk to you,” thomas says. “virgil, too.” 

“okay . . .” virgil says, he’s cautious, hesitant, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and thomas’s heart melts a little bit because he’s seen this suspicion before. 

(he really didn’t need to worry about logan’s judgement - it appears that like attracts like, and logan’s better now than he was and he thinks they’ll both be okay.)

“just you two,” he says. “without my brothers present. not that i don’t love them -” he smiles, because virgil’s entire body has stiffened and patton’s eyes are wider than they were five seconds ago “ - but i’d like to get to know a little more about you. if that’s alright, of course.” 

he holds his hands up in a placating gesture, palms out. roman looks kind of pissed off, but he doesn’t protest. what he says is, “well, logan, i believe this is up to patton and virgil.” logan nods, but there’s something about the set of his mouth that tells thomas he’s not particularly happy either. 

“well, sure! i don’t see why not!” patton says, and thomas can hear the nerves in his voice but his eyes are clear and his voice is steady. roman smiles, places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes once. patton leans into the touch, as though it’s something he’s missed. 

virgil, still next-to-behind logan, hasn’t said anything.

“it’s not an interrogation,” thomas says gently. he makes eye contact with logan, who steps carefully to the side and lets thomas approach virgil. virgil looks at his face, but his eyes keep skittering from thomas’s cheeks to his forehead to his chin to his forehead to his nose to his forehead to his mouth to his forehead - 

and it’s the crown that’s making him nervous, and thomas regrets wearing it. he doesn’t like it because he’s not a person when he wears it, he’s a symbol, he’s a kingdom, he’s a figurehead. he takes it off, ignoring roman’s indignant gasp, and holds it in one hand, clasping them behind his back so that virgil can’t see it anymore. 

slowly, he settles into eye contact with thomas. 

“i just want to talk to you two,” he says. “it’s not anything bad. i’m not going to kick you out of the castle or tell you that you’re not allowed to date my brothers, if that’s what you’re afraid of.” 

“like you could stop us,” roman scoffs. 

“tradition says that you two be presented to the current monarch in front of the whole royal court, and that a full interrogation of your motives be conducted,” thomas says. virgil bites his lower lip. “but our father . . . he’s not in the best of health right now, and i’m not technically the crown prince yet. and i don’t think either of you would be comfortable with something like that. i know i wouldn’t be.” 

virgil looks at patton, like he wants patton to answer for him, but patton smiles gently and shakes his head. virgil looks back at thomas, takes a slow, deep breath, and thomas can read his anxiety in the way every muscle in his body is tensed up and ready to run. 

“yeah,” he says, finally. “yeah, i - ok. ok.” 

logan carefully reaches for his hand, uncurling his tightly clenched fist and running his fingers softly along his hand in an attempt to soothe him. “if it makes you feel better,” thomas says, “we can talk in the library. my brothers can wait in roman’s room, far enough away that they can’t eavesdrop but close enough that you can go clear your head if you need to.” 

“i’m not sure i appreciate you insinuating that we would eavesdrop,” roman says, and there’s false outrage dripping from every syllable but he’s grinning his million-dollar smile. 

“roman, do we even need to bring up -” logan begins. 

“no we do not!” roman yelps, clamping his hands down over the ears of a giggling patton. “we absolutely do not need to bring that up, now or ever again!” 

virgil cracks a small smile at roman’s antics, laughing a little, and the knot of anxious tension tangled in thomas’s chest begins to unravel, just a little bit. 

* * *

he talks to patton first, lets virgil take some time to breathe. “so, roman tells me you’re the real lord sanders.” he’s left the crown in his room, bothered by the weight and unwilling to terrify these poor boys any more than is strictly necessary. 

“i - i guess,” patton says, fiddling with his fingers. “i’m still getting used to the idea, honestly. it’s - it’s really weird.” 

“tell me about it,” thomas says, and patton does. he explains his parents, the death of his mother and the remarriage of his father and the situation with his so-called brother. he explains how they got to the ball, all of the work that virgil had done without anyone’s help just to give patton one evening, how dorian had almost ruined everything. 

there’s silence for a little while, just patton breathing shaky and slow while thomas waits for his response.

“he wasn’t really my brother, was he,” patton murmurs after a while. thomas carefully sets a hand on patton’s knee, trying to be comforting; patton meets his gaze, and thomas shakes his head. 

“no, he wasn’t. he was never anything except cruel to you,” thomas says, gently. patton presses the tips of his fingers together and blinks rapidly a few times. thomas looks to the floor, letting patton compose himself. 

“i know that,” patton whispers. “but - but he was my _brother_. i knew him for most of my life. and now he’s gone, and i don’t - i don’t know what to do. i haven’t been expected to be lord of anything for years, and now i’m _here_ , in the _royal castle_ , with the _princes_ , and i’m - i’m confused. and a little scared, if i’m honest.” 

“that’s okay,” thomas says. patton looks at him, eyes wide and wet, and it occurs to thomas that he might be the first person telling this to him. he takes a moment to try and compose what he wants to say. “it’s - okay to not know what to do. i don’t - i can’t pretend to know what happened, but i know what it feels like to suddenly be thrown into a position of power that you weren’t expecting.” 

(because he knew he’d be the king one day, but now he’s suddenly expected to make decisions by himself when he’d always thought he’d have the counsel of his father and his brothers at his side.) 

“it’s hard,” patton says. “i - i don’t want to bother roman with it. i only just met him, and he’s so sweet and charming and wonderful. i couldn’t ask for a nicer person. i don’t want him to worry. and virgil … virgil spent the first half of his life under his thumb. how do i say that - that i’m -” 

“that you’re scared,” thomas finishes. patton nods, and thomas squeezes his leg gently. “you’re worried about being … being enough, by yourself. because he told you that you never would be. you’re afraid of the power you’ve got because you’ve never had it before and you don’t want to mess things up. and it’s okay! you’re allowed to feel like that. this is a really big shift for both of you.” 

“virgil especially,” patton says. “i mean, i kind of remember this stuff from before my mother died, but he’s not -” he snaps his mouth shut almost instantly, like he knows he’s said something wrong. thomas sits up, taking his hand off patton’s leg. 

“but he’s not what, patton?” thomas asks. patton shakes his head. 

“patton, you can trust me, you know.” he still doesn’t say, and thomas is confused. patton seems open and honest, not the type to lie, so if he’s doing so now it must be important. 

“i’m sorry,” he says, “but i can’t tell you.” 

“i’m not going to force you to leave.” didn’t he say this already? he supposes that he could command patton to tell him, as the crown prince, but he _hates_ using his power like that. he _won’t_. 

“it’s not me i’m worried about,” patton mutters, and suddenly he remembers that patton is here with his brother. he thinks back to patton’s story, and he thinks he knows why patton is holding back. 

“is there a reason you feel that you can’t say anything to me?” 

“if i tell you, virgil will get hurt. i won’t let that happen. if that means you have to - to kick me out, then so be it, but he - he deserves better.” patton sets his face like flint and meets thomas’s eyes, and there’s a fire in them that wasn’t there before. 

that’s the instant thomas decides he likes patton. because thomas values honesty - he doesn’t believe in telling lies - but he also values loyalty. his duty is to lay his life down for his kingdom, but he’d sacrifice himself for his brothers in a heartbeat. the determination in patton’s face tells thomas what kind of person he is. 

patton is the kind of person thomas wouldn’t mind roman being with. 

“you’re protective of him,” thomas says. “i’m the same way with my little brothers. i’d sooner die than see them hurt.” patton nods. 

“virgil is my little brother,” patton says, and it sounds like he’s trying to convince more than just thomas. “i - i like roman. i think i could love him. but i won’t put anyone above my brother.” 

_not even yourself_ , thomas thinks, but doesn’t say it. what he says is, “i think you and roman are going to get along very well.” patton smiles, and thomas smiles back. it’s hard not to; patton’s smile is contagious. “i’m glad that he found you.” 

“i’m glad i found him too!” patton says. his cheeks are pink now, and thomas listens to him gush about roman with a soft smile. ( ~~if he wasn’t already convinced, it turns out that patton is _exactly_ as hopelessly gay as roman is~~.)

virgil gets off to a rockier start. he sits on the edge of the chair, entire body tensed to run, hands clenched into fists on his thighs, staring at the floor. thomas doesn’t sit in the chair this time. he sits on the floor, cross-legged, and watches virgil carefully. he’s incredibly vulnerable in this position, but he hopes that maybe this will put virgil at ease. 

“did patton tell you about me.” it’s not a question. 

“depends what you think he told me.” virgil is careful, guarded, and thomas decides to let him control the conversation, hoping that that will make him feel more comfortable. 

“why i can’t stay,” virgil says. thomas blinks, once, because if virgil is planning to leave, he doesn’t know if he can force him to stay. he doesn’t panic, though. instead, he takes a moment to breathe and pick his next words carefully.

“well, no one’s forcing you to, but i can tell you for a fact that you’d hurt logan if you left,” thomas says, and virgil flinches. that’s a good sign as far as how he feels about logan, but a bad sign as far as thomas making his way into virgil’s good graces. 

“it’s not that i want to, but you won’t let me stay.” 

“why not?” 

“i can’t -” virgil clenches his fist again. his hair stirs slightly, as though it’s been ruffled by a breeze, but there’s no breeze in the library. “my magic. i can’t control it very well.” 

“i saw what you did in the arena,” thomas says. “that took control, didn’t it? you had that fire burning for, what, five or six minutes?” 

“i guess,” virgil mumbles. 

“you didn’t burn logan. it would have been so easy for you, but you didn’t. you didn’t hurt him.” 

“i would never.” virgil’s eyes snap up to meet his. “i would - i never want to hurt anyone. not unless they try to hurt me, or someone i care about. i’m not - i’m not violent, i promise.” his voice is tinged with desperation. “i’m not a bad person.”

“i believe you,” thomas says. “no one here thinks you’re a bad person, no matter what you’ve been told. there are ways that you can work on your magic, ways to hone your control. i’m going to be king one day - probably sooner than i’d like to be. i can help you.” 

“because you don’t want logan to get hurt?”

“because you deserve to be helped.” virgil looks stunned at the fierce sincerity in thomas’s tone. “i’d do anything to protect my brother, it’s true. but that doesn’t mean i don’t want to help you for your sake.” 

virgil’s eyes drop away from his again. thomas watches him, quietly, and then says, “what did you think patton told me, virgil?” 

virgil mumbles something beneath his breath. thomas doesn’t ask him to repeat it, but he doesn’t say anything either. he waits, lets virgil take a few deep breaths, lets him say what he needs to at his own pace.

“i’m not nobility,” he says, and it looks like thomas’s suspicions were correct. “patton is the biological child of lord and lady sanders. after lady sanders died, his dad married our mom, but - but we were already born. dorian and i are blood brothers, but patton and i are brothers by marriage. i don’t have noble blood, so - so i can’t marry a prince, can i?” 

he laughs, short and bitter. “and it sucks, cause - cause patton’s been more of a brother to me than he ever was, and it doesn’t mean jack shit! and i -” 

“of course it matters.” thomas leans forward, making sure virgil is looking at him. “patton almost told me. he almost told me you weren’t born noble. but he stopped himself and he refused to tell me.” 

“patton,” virgil whispers. 

“he protected you because he loves you. because you’re his brother, blood ties be damned.” virgil looks at him, and thomas looks right back. 

“it doesn’t mean anything. i’m still not nobility, and i’m still not allowed to marry logan. and that _sucks ass_ because he - he’s - he’s _so nice_. he’s super careful about getting consent before he touches me, and he helped me with my anxiety attack earlier, and he’s - he’s kind and considerate and funny and he’s _so fucking smart_ , it blows my mind. i don’t know if i love him, but - but i think i might. i think, given time … i think i could love him.” 

thomas stands up and offers his hand to virgil. virgil looks up at him, and thomas smiles softly. 

“okay.” 

“okay what?” 

“okay, that settles it. i’m going to do everything i can to make sure that you’re allowed to be with my brother. i think you deserve to be, but more importantly, i think he deserves you. we can talk more about the magic training later.” 

virgil takes thomas’s hand hesitantly, but when thomas squeezes his hand, he lets himself be pulled to his feet. “thanks,” he mutters. “you’re - you’re being really nice to someone who really hasn’t been that nice to you.” 

“are you afraid of me?” thomas asks. virgil looks guilty, but he doesn’t deny it. thomas was expecting this, but it still hurts him a little. “any particular reason?”

“you’re the crown prince,” virgil answers automatically. 

“not yet,” thomas says. “i’m not crown prince yet.” 

“you will be,” virgil says. “and i know that’s a shitty reason to be afraid of someone, but you have _so much power_. i’ve - i’ve spent my whole life basically powerless, trying to protect myself and patton from someone with a ridiculous amount of power over us. you seem so nice, and you’re related to logan and he speaks so highly of you so i know that means you _must_ be nice, but you know what they say. old habits die hard, right?” 

“you need time to adjust,” thomas tells him. “that’s okay. you can have that. there’s no rush. i just - i hope that, eventually, you can separate who i am as a person from what i do. i don’t want you to be afraid of me.” 

“if it makes you feel better,” virgil mutters, “i don’t wanna be afraid of you. i want to like you.” 

( ~~it does make thomas feel better.~~ ) 

* * *

virgil leaves the library feeling a little bit better about the whole thomas situation. 

so, of course, he is immediately grabbed and dragged into another room, because the universe has not yet failed to see the appeal of screwing him over. virgil reaches for his magic, even though he has absolutely no idea what he’s planning to do, and then he hears his abductor say, “take it easy, there, dark and stormy knight!” and _oh_ , it’s roman. 

“was that really necessary, your highness?” he grumbles. roman’s grip on his arm slackens, and virgil takes a deep breath. (he likes the castle, but all this stress is not good for his heart.) 

“sorry,” roman says, “and you can use my first name, you know.” 

“did you need something?” 

“yes,” and roman’s eyes are uncharacteristically serious and virgil doesn’t know how to react. “it’s about logan.” virgil’s heart, which had just begun to settle down after his talk with thomas, leaps right back into overtime. 

“is something wrong? did something happen?” 

“no, nothing. but there is something i need you to know.” roman stands up straighter, pushes his shoulders back, and suddenly virgil is staring at his royal highness prince roman, the youngest son of the king, the captain of the knights. “i may be the youngest brother, but logan is my best friend in the entire world, and i would do anything to protect him.” 

“okay?” 

“what i’m trying to say is, if you do anything to hurt my brother, you’ll have to answer to me, and believe me when i say, there will be hell to pay.” roman crosses his arms over his chest and stares at virgil, apparently expecting a response. 

virgil takes a deep breath, lifts his head to meet roman’s eyes, and lets the purple glow of magic seep into his irises. roman has the decency to look slightly shocked, at the very least. “thanks for the heads-up,” virgil says. “i can appreciate being concerned for your brother, which is why i’m telling you this. if you ever - and i mean _ever_ \- do _anything_ to make patton feel even the _slightest_ bit upset, i will personally ensure that they never find your body.” 

they stare at each other for a few more minutes in silence. neither of them blinks, neither of them backs down, neither of them looks away. it’s roman who finally breaks it, laughing and clapping a hand on virgil’s shoulder. (virgil only flinches a little bit at the suddenly sharp contact. he’s proud of that.) 

“you know what? i think you’ll be good for logan!” he laughs, and virgil lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. he has the distinct feeling that he’s just passed some kind of very important test. 

“i’ll protect him,” virgil says. 

“hm?”

“logan. i know you worry about him and i - i want you to know that i would never intentionally do anything that might endanger him.” roman relaxes a little at those words. 

“thank you, virgil,” roman says. “i know you’ve been protecting patton for a really long time. and yourself, too. the other reason i brought you in here is because i want you to know that you don’t have to worry about protecting him from us. we’ll protect him, and you, the same way we protect each other.” 

virgil still feels a little uneasy. he smiles and nods and thanks roman, because he is grateful, but he can’t just stop worrying about patton. he believes roman, he believes thomas, he believes logan, he likes them all just fine, but he loves patton. patton’s been the only good person in his life up to this point, and virgil is determined to repay him by keeping him safe. 

roman leads him into logan’s room, where logan sits in an armchair, eyes staring blankly at a book open on his lap. patton is running his fingers over the embossed spines of the books on logan’s shelves, but when he sees roman and virgil, he crosses the room rapidly. 

virgil lets patton hug him. patton’s hugs are warm and safe and secure, and even though he’s not always the touchiest person, he can’t deny how nice patton’s affection makes him feel. roman and patton apparently have plans or something, because they disappear into roman’s room, giggling. 

logan looks up from the book he’s been reading and smiles at virgil. “did you have a nice talk with thomas?” 

“it was a talk,” virgil shrugs. logan closes the book and sets it aside. “i mean, he seems really nice, and i really want to like him, but it’s hard.” 

“no one expects you to acclimatize right away,” logan says. “it’s okay to take time to adjust.” 

“what if it takes a lot of time?” virgil mumbles. 

“then it takes a lot of time. i, for one, am not opposed to waiting, especially when i am sure that the result will be worth it.” virgil smiles, slow and cautious, and logan’s small smile widens. 

“thank you.” logan’s finger run restlessly over the raised lettering on the book in his lap. “what are you reading?” 

“re-reading, actually. it’s the first volume in a series about the history of our kingdom. it’s fascinating, actually,” logan says, and there’s something bright and passionate in his eyes. virgil sits on the bed, carefully. 

“tell me about it.” 

logan falters, looking mildly stunned. “really?” 

“yeah. it sounds interesting. and i really don’t know anything about our history. never went to school. i can read, and i can do math, but there was never really much of an opportunity for me to learn much more than that.” 

“i cannot imagine something so horrible,” logan mutters. he opens the front cover of the book and begins to read it out loud. 

“you don’t have to do that,” virgil says, turning to look at him. 

“i am aware,” logan says. “i’m doing this because i want to.” 

virgil doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but logan’s voice is a soothing, steady pitch. he starts out sitting up, but eventually he’s laying on his side, watching logan read as his eyes slowly, slowly slip shut. 

_everything is black, and suddenly roman appears, sword in hand, bringing it up to block the guard’s lance aimed at his chainmail-protected chest. past._

_everything is black, and suddenly patton appears, head thrown back in laughter, body language reading like he’s leaning into someone else even though no one else is visible. present._

_everything is black, and suddenly logan appears, hands raised in a placating, defensive gesture. he’s standing in the courtyard, and a horse rears up in front of him, massive and black, and it brings its hooves down hard. logan collapses to the ground, arms curled over his head, unmoving, and -_

virgil wakes up, startling logan, breathing fast and hard. 

_future_. 


	6. pattonella vi: thERe’s a hORsE lOoSE in the cOURtYaRd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which logan and thomas conspire, roman is called away, and virgil performs some magical feats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: nightmare mention, mild anxiety, minor injury/blood mention, mild angst

logan doesn’t know what’s happened. he tends to space out when he reads, and he had noticed virgil’s deep, even breaths a while ago. he keeps reading, and he slowly starts to slip into sleep himself, even as he tries to force his eyes to focus on the page. 

then virgil sits up, breathing heavily, eyes wide and purple, and logan is awake in an instant. 

“virgil?” 

virgil flings himself off the bed and tears open the door connecting logan’s room to roman’s. the book falls to the floor as logan follows him, and he sees virgil standing in the middle of the room, staring at patton. patton is laughing and leaning into roman’s side, but he stops when he sees his brother. “virgil?” 

logan puts a hand on virgil’s shoulder, and he flinches vehemently, turning around, magic sparking at his fingers. logan holds his hands up in surrender. “virgil, it’s me. it’s logan.” virgil’s entire body is taut and tense, and logan’s not sure what happened but he knows this isn’t right. 

virgil surges forward and grabs logan’s shoulders. behind him, roman stiffens, but logan’s not afraid. “virgil, you need to breathe.” virgil is breathing, but it’s too hard, too fast, too erratic. “virgil. look at me.” 

virgil blinks a few times and the purple fades from his eyes, slowly. logan leans forward, carefully, offering virgil a hug if he wants it. apparently, he does, because virgil pitches forward and wraps his arms around logan’s neck. logan hugs him back, feels the tension drain out of him. 

“are you okay, virgil?” patton asks. he’s still pressed against roman’s side, and roman relaxes into his touch. virgil nods against logan’s shoulder. “what happened?” 

“nightmare,” he mumbles. ‘m sorry, i get freaked sometimes. vivid imagination, you know?” logan begins to rub his back, right between his shoulder blades. he doesn’t know if it’ll help or not, but judging by the way virgil squeezes him tightly, he supposes he’s doing all right. 

virgil pulls out of the hug after a few minutes and asks, “can i cast a spell on you?” 

logan chokes. roman snorts. “you cast a spell on him the moment he laid eyes on you, dark-and-stormy nightmare.” logan chokes again. he weighs the benefits of flipping his brother off, but decides against it, because virgil is watching him with intense seriousness. 

“what kind of spell?” he says, despite the instincts telling him that he should just say no and be done with it. he doesn’t have a lot of experience with magic, and hell, he doesn’t have that much experience with virgil, either. but he trusts him. maybe a bit too much, too fast, but he trusts him. 

“not anything bad,” virgil reassures. “i dont - i don’t know any powerful dark spells, and even if i did, i would never -”

“i know,” logan says. “i trust you.” virgil looks stunned at that, mouth open in a round _o_ shape, eyes wide, face a soft pink, and logan can’t resist leaning forward and kissing him, softly. virgil inhales sharply when their lips meet, and logan wants to pull away but he kisses back, tilting his head forward. 

virgil breaks the kiss far sooner than logan would have liked, and he’s been taking it slow with the physical affection for both their sakes but he _one hundred percent_ is interested in doing that again. “it’s a protective spell,” virgil says. “i can ward your bedrooms, but there are also personal protective spells i can put on you. i’ll have to renew them every so often, but - they’ll keep you safe.” 

“what do we need to be kept safe from?” roman laughs. virgil isn’t laughing, and neither is patton, and that concerns logan. virgil, from what he’s seen so far, is a habitually nervous person. he worries about most things, and even when he’s seemingly at his most relaxed he’s tense, like he’s just waiting for someone to spring out from behind a corner and give him a reason to run away. but patton looks concerned, and patton usually doesn’t. 

virgil doesn’t say what he thinks they need to be kept safe from. he just shakes his head and smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “it’s nothing. i’m just - worrying over nothing, again.” logan narrows his eyes. 

“you can tell me if something is bothering you, virgil,” he says, softly. virgil presses his hand against logan’s face and smiles again, and it’s more genuine than before. 

“i know,” he says. “thank you, logan.” logan tips his head, pressing his face against virgil’s hand, and turns it to press a kiss to virgil’s palm. virgil’s pink face becomes pinker still, and logan relishes the way the color spreads from his cheeks across the bridge of his nose and up into the tips of his ears. 

“if you’re quite finished being a useless gay,” someone says. logan whirls around to see thomas standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking. the pink on virgil’s face is quickly forgotten as logan feels fire sear across his own face. not for the first time, he curses his pale skin for always giving him away. 

“you got a moment?” thomas asks. roman howls with laughter behind him, and patton elbows him, telling him to be nice. (patton is laughing, too, though not nearly as hard.) logan looks back to virgil, who just shrugs. 

“i will be back,” logan promises, before following thomas into the hallway. he expects thomas to stop, but thomas keeps going, and the longer he keeps walking the more nervous logan gets. thomas’s chambers are close to logan and roman, but not connected the way that logan’s and roman’s are, and it’s thomas’s bedroom where they stop. 

thomas shuts the door behind him and turns to logan. “we have an issue.” 

logan pulls his glasses off and rubs them on his shirt. they’re clean, and he doesn’t need to, but he needs something to do with his hands. “we do?” 

thomas sighs, shoves his hands through his hair. “not an issue, per se, but it’s not something we can just not talk about.” 

“is it about virgil?” logan asks, quietly. he can’t think what else it would be. “are you worried about his magic?” 

“not his magic, no.” 

“then what?” 

“he’s not a nobleman, logan.” logan bristles at that statement, and thomas rushes to amend it. “not - that’s not what i mean!”  
  
“then what do you mean?” logan asks, icily. 

“logan, i like virgil. he seems like a really good person, and i think that you two are good for each other. i think you made the right choice.” logan is still wary, still nervous, but thomas has known him his whole life, and he knows the words that soothe logan’s ruffled feathers. 

“so what’s the issue?” 

“the law. legally, i cannot allow you or roman to marry someone who’s not of noble birth. and it’s bullshit, but in order to override that law, i’d need to be king, and -”

“and you can’t be king unless you’re named crown prince, and you can’t be named crown prince unless roman and i are married off,” logan finishes. “it’s a paradox. a snake eating its own tail in an endless cycle of -”

“nope, nope, i’m gonna stop that metaphor _right there_ before i _vomit_ ,” thomas interrupts. he tries for a laugh, but it’s weak and false, and they both know that. 

“so what do we do?” 

“that’s why i asked you to come here,” thomas says. “you’re much more well-versed in the laws of the kingdom than i am. if we’re going to make this work, we’re gonna need a goddamn miracle.” 

“we’re gonna need better than that,” logan says, putting his glasses back on. “we’re going to need a legal loophole.” 

“can you find us one of those?” thomas asks. logan smirks. 

“thomas, i have many specialties. legal loopholes are one of them.” 

thomas reaches out and weaves his hand into logan’s hair, messing it up. logan swats at his brother’s hand, but there’s no force behind the blow. he hates thomas messing with his hair because it makes him feel like a little kid and he has an _image to maintain, goddamnit_ , but here, with just the two of them, he doesn’t mind that as much. 

(here, with just the two of them, logan is seven years old again, watching his big brother with starstruck eyes as thomas slides puzzle pieces into place, believing that his big brother can do anything, solve anything, protect him from anything.) 

(he’s older now, more world-wise, and much better at puzzles than thomas is, but some small piece of him will always be that child, believing that thomas can do anything.)

“i believe in you, kid,” thomas says. logan really does push thomas’s hand away from him at this point, but it’s accompanied with a snort of laughter. 

“you are only two years older than me.” 

“still taller, though,” thomas teases. logan pushes himself onto his tiptoes, straining, but thomas is still taller. it annoys logan greatly that he’s the shortest of the three of them, and thomas never lets him forget it. 

“i will start researching as soon as possible,” logan says. “if i could just - request that we keep this from virgil and patton? they believe they have found their happy ending at last.” 

“they have,” thomas says. “you’re going to make sure of it.” 

“promise me,” logan pushes. “they are already afraid it’s too good to be true. they’re so unfamiliar with hope. it would be cruel to shatter it now.” 

thomas looks hesitant, but he sighs. “okay, logan, but not forever. you can make some headway, but you have to tell them. can _you_ promise _me_ that?” 

logan nods, not trusting himself to speak around the burning lump in his throat. “you can do this, kid,” thomas says, voice soft and sincere. “if anyone can find a work-around for this, it’s you.” 

logan smiles, but he doesn’t share his brother’s confidence. he thinks of virgil, of the sound of his laugh and the feel of his mouth and the soft pink of his face when logan kissed him and the way he looks at logan when he’s affectionate, as though he’s unused to positivity of any kind. 

logan thinks of that, and he makes up his mind. he’s not letting go of this. he refuses to. 

he walks back to roman’s bedroom, apology already on his lips, only to find roman already standing outside. he’s talking to a messenger, nodding, face grim, and logan knows that look. 

the messenger bows before running off, and roman turns to face logan. he’s surprised to see him, but not as surprised as he would have been. “i have to go,” he says. 

“the captain of the knights is summoned again?” logan murmurs. roman nods. 

“something about bandits? they’ve been raiding every few days, and they should be showing up tomorrow if they stick to the same routine. i’m gonna ride out with some of the guards today and we’ll set up and wait for the bandits to show.” 

“have you told patton yet?” 

“i just found out.” roman sighs, shoving his hands through his hair exactly the way thomas does. sometimes, logan feels a pang in his heart, because roman and thomas are so very much alike and he feels like the odd child out. he knows that they love him, but they relate to each other in ways that logan has never understood. 

(he’s never met anyone who related to him the way that roman and thomas do. then he met virgil.) 

“i suggest you tell him swiftly,” logan says. roman squeezes logan’s shoulder and heads into the bedroom. virgil’s cross-legged on the ground, hands palms-up, and patton is flat on his stomach, leaning over the edge, watching him. 

sparks leap from virgil’s fingertips, twisting to form images in the air. currently, it’s two small figures, one blue and one red, dancing around in spinning circles. virgil tilts his hand just so and the figures press closer together, kissing. patton laughs, and the figures turn purple where they touch. 

“it’s beautiful,” logan says. virgil’s eyes flick towards him, purple once more. he waves his hand and the sparks fly up towards the ceiling before settling towards his palms. they recondense into two figures (one blue, one purple) seated at a table, with a tiny chess set on it. the figures poke and prod at the table before one of them stands up, leans forward, and kisses the other. 

“i like this scene better,” virgil murmurs. 

“roman?” patton asks. virgil lets the sparks evaporate and turns to roman. 

“dearheart,” roman sighs, sitting next to patton and wrapping his arm around him. patton doesn’t lean in like he usually does, instead watching roman’s face intently. “i have to go.” 

“go where?” patton asks. virgil stands as logan crosses the room, reaches for logan’s hand but stops short of actually touching it. he looks at logan, and he doesn’t say anything, but logan can sense the question in his eyes. _is this okay_?

logan reaches out and takes it. 

“i am the captain of the knights and the royal guard,” roman says. “we get called out to defend the kingdom. there’s currently a village nearby that’s being ransacked by bandits every few days. the bandits should be coming back tomorrow, so i’m riding out with a few men tonight. we’re gonna camp out there and wait for them, hopefully drive them away from the innocent villagers.” 

patton’s face contorts with worry, and virgil tightens his hand around logan’s. “will you be okay?” patton asks. roman laughs. 

“of course i will, patton! i’m prince roman, what could go wrong?” 

patton still looks worried, and roman cups his face with his free hand. patton leans into it almost subconsciously, closing his eyes and letting a soft breath out through his nose. roman’s eyes flick to virgil. 

“what was that you were saying about protective spells, virgil?” 

virgil looks stunned, but patton’s eyes fly open and he looks at virgil with raw, unbridled hope. “that’s right! virgil, you’re great at magic!” 

“not great,” virgil interrupts, but patton plows over him. 

“you can cast spells on roman! you can keep him safe!” 

“i’m not putting magic on roman without his consent.” 

“you have it,” roman says. 

“have what?” 

“my consent. i’m confident in my abilities as a swordsman, but i won’t lie - some extra protection wouldn’t hurt. and i think it’ll put patton’s mind at ease.” 

“it would! it really would!” patton says, nodding vigorously. roman leans forward and kisses him, and virgil sighs. logan squeezes his hand, and when virgil looks at him, logan smiles. 

“i believe in you.” 

virgil takes a deep breath, exhales slowly, lets his shoulders drop. “ok, roman. i’ll cast some protective spells. they’re no match for being careful and skilled, but … they should help.” 

roman stands up, kisses patton’s head, and walks over to virgil and logan. “what do you need me to do?” 

virgil pulls roman into the center of the room. “i don’t have the strength to maintain any really powerful ones,” he admits. “i can give you reinforcement spells, and spells to deflect mild physical injury. and if you let me see your armor and sword i can bolster those with magic too.” 

“i trust you,” roman shrugs. “do whatever you think is best.” 

virgil presses his palms to roman’s chest, takes a deep breath in, and begins to chant. purple magic spirals down his arms and into roman’s chest. a soft purple glow spreads from his hands across roman’s entire body, and roman gasps softly. 

“it’s safe, right?” logan asks patton. 

“i’ve never seen him do this before,” patton says, “but i trust my brother.” 

the red glow intensifies, and then condenses around roman, form-fitting. virgil continues chanting, and golden light spreads out from his hands. it wraps around the purple light, covering it but not obscuring it, and it, too, condenses around roman. 

virgil casts three more layers of spells - one red, one green, and finally a bright white light. he finally finishes chanting and pulls his hands back. the light dissipates when virgil stops making direct contact, and he’s shaking slightly. 

“are you alright?” roman asks. “did that hurt you?”

“it was just a lot of magic at once,” virgil says. “i’m alright. that last spell was a binding spell, to hold all the other spells together and also hold them onto you. they’ll last about two or three days, if i’ve done them right.” 

“of course you have!” patton cheers, and virgil smiles softly. 

“how do you feel, roman?” 

roman flexes his fingers, curling his hands into fists and letting them relax. “great! i feel like i just got an energy boost!” 

“that was the green spell,” virgil says. 

roman grins, seizing virgil’s shoulders. he tenses at the sudden contact; roman doesn’t notice, but virgil relaxes after a couple seconds, so logan lets it go. “virgil, you glorious creature! i love you, this is amazing!” 

virgil flushes at the praise. “so, um, did you still want me to do your armor and stuff?” 

“oh, absolutely! but only if you’ve got the strength to spare, virgil. you’ve already done more than enough, i’m sure i can manage!” 

virgil shakes his head. “no, i … i think i’ll be okay to do your armor and sword. not much more than that, though.” 

“if you’re sure,” roman says. virgil nods. 

logan catches his hand and presses a kiss to the back of it when they head out to the armory. “you’re wonderful.” virgil’s pink face turns red, and he leans in to kiss logan’s cheek. 

“so are you.” 

* * *

the castle courtyard is bright and cheery, a bustle of people and animals and life. virgil watches everyone around him, carefully cataloguing what might go wrong. he presses close to logan like a shadow, and he worries that logan might think he’s strange, but logan just wraps his arm around virgil and doesn’t say anything.

(he’s curious, too, virgil can tell. but he seems to know that virgil doesn’t want to talk about it, and so he doesn’t, and virgil is falling, falling, falling for this boy, so fast it should scare him.)

( ~~so why doesn’t it?~~ )

someone accosts logan, a man asking him to look over some figures in a notebook. virgil loses the conversation almost instantly (he’s pretty sure it’s some kind of merchant-economics thing, and he knows basic math but not nearly enough to follow along), so he steps away from logan. he doesn’t want to distract him. 

the courtyard is beautiful, but virgil can’t shake the nagging feeling that something bad is going to happen. he’s pretty sure that his dream - the one where a raging horse crushed logan beneath its hooves - involved this courtyard. virgil had hoped it was just a regular nightmare, but no such luck, it seems. 

virgil’s dreams aren’t always prophetic. he’s learned to differentiate between normal dreams and normal nightmares, and visions of what’s to come. whenever he dreams of visions, there’s never just one - it’s always three. a vision of the past, a vision of the present, and a vision of the future. 

he’d seen the past - roman in battle, poetry in motion, blocking a lance towards his heart exactly the way he’d done in training. he’d seen the present - when he burst in on roman and patton, they’d been laughing and curling against each other exactly like they had in the vision. 

which means that the vision he saw of logan was the future. _logan, cowering beneath a rearing horse. logan, knocked to the ground, arms around himself. logan, blood staining the flagstones beneath his head_ -

virgil shakes his head to clear it. he does this, sometimes, spirals down the worst possible train of thought and warps his visions into something they never were. there wasn’t any blood in the dream, and he never saw the horse knock logan to the ground. what he saw was logan already on the ground, covering his head, beneath a rearing horse. 

he hadn’t actually been injured in the vision, just close to it. if virgil is very smart (and stupid lucky) he might be able to stop it from happening at all.

he doesn’t realize how far he’s wandered away until a sudden shout catches his attention. he whirls around to see a _truly massive_ black horse galloping full tilt across the courtyard, hooves slamming against the cobblestones, straight towards logan, and virgil needs to move but he’s frozen in fear. 

he hadn’t expected it to happen _today_. he should have, given that his dreams never really foretell things that are too far off, but he hadn’t expected _this._

logan shoves the man he’d been conferring with off to the side, making sure he’s safely out of the way. virgil’s anxiety lessens slightly, because logan seems capable of moving which means he’ll be okay, he’ll get out of the way, the vision won’t happen. but logan doesn’t get out of the way. he faces the horse head-on, digging his heels into the cobblestone, and virgil is frozen in fear. he’s cursing logan and cursing his legs because both of them need to move, he needs to move, he needs to move, _why can’t he just **fucking** move_\- 

the horse bears down on logan, who speaks slowly in a low, soothing voice (although virgil can’t hear what he’s saying). he reaches his hands up towards the horse’s head, and virgil doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. trying to calm the horse? trying to grab its bridle? what he does know is that the horse doesn’t stop when it sees logan’s hands. it does, however, get spooked, and it rears up, front hooves flailing wildly. 

one hoof hits logan in the head. it’s a glancing blow, but it’s enough to knock logan to the ground. he has the sense to cover his head, but he’s dazed by the blow and not standing up, and virgil wants to throw up because this, right here, is the nightmare scenario. when the horse comes down, it’s going to crush him, one hoof on his chest and one on his head. 

“ _logan!_ ” 

and that scream - that’s _roman_. he’s across the courtyard, farther away than even virgil is, and virgil tries to imagine how he would feel if he saw his older brother in peril and he couldn’t do anything to help. he shakes the image of patton out of his head, because he has to focus. he won’t let roman lose logan. he _refuses_ to let roman lose logan - not now, not today. 

( ~~ _he_ refuses to lose logan.~~) 

his legs finally snap into action and he’s stumbling forward as fast as he can but the horse is coming down and virgil’s not going to make it but there has to be something he can do - 

and _oh_ , he’s such a _fool._ he always forgets about his magic until it’s too late. but it’s not too late now. he can do something this time - he can _save_ someone this time. and he will. 

he throws his hands out, shouting. he’s not sure what spell he’s casting (he doesn’t think he’s ever cast it before), but he know in his gut it’s the right one. magic explodes from his hands, and the entire world is obscured by a blinding purple light. 


	7. pattonella vii: and y'all thought this au was dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the author resurrects this au after nearly a year, two new characters are introduced, and everyone is very, very gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mild injury, minor blood mention, anxiety, nightmare mentions, mention of death

logan doesn’t regret his decisions. 

he doesn’t really have time for regret. he makes what he thinks is the most logical decision, and he rolls with the consequences. he can count exactly four times that he’s regretted a decision (and all of them involve either thomas or roman or both bursting into tears). now, curling into the fetal position to protect his head as a draft horse rears above him, hooves the side of his head about to crash through his fragile ribcage and even more fragile skull, he adds a fifth decision to his very short list of regrets. 

he can hear roman’s voice, high and frantic, and he knows he should probably get up but he’s pretty sure he hit his head. everything is slightly fuzzy around the edges, and then he hears virgil. he’s using that strange language again, the one logan doesn’t speak, and it seeps into the air, thick and liquid like honey. 

strange lights spiral up the horse’s rear legs, wrapping around its torso and tail and front legs and neck and it’s different from what logan has seen of virgil’s magic so far. it leaves a strange gray dust in its wake, spreading and cracking across the horse’s body. 

logan waits for the inevitable crash of hooves on flagstone (or hooves on bone), but it doesn’t come. when he finally manages to open his eyes, he sees virgil, standing above him, hands and eyes glowing a brilliant purple. his gaze shifts a few feet, and he sees the horse above him. 

he keeps waiting for the hooves to drop, but they never do. the big, black horse is now gray and unmoving. it’s been turned completely to stone. “ ** _are you okay?!_** ” virgil asks, voice layered and thick with magic. 

“what . . . happened? what . . . what did you . . . ah, my head . . .” 

“ _logan?!”_

suddenly, roman appears, dropping to his knees and gently touching logan’s face. his fingertips are red when he pulls them away. why would they be red? logan doesn’t understand . . . 

“we gotta get you back to the palace,” roman decides firmly. logan feels the world spin and shift beneath him, and suddenly someone is holding him. he can hear his little brother’s voice, making some kind of big announcement. (he knows it’s a big announcement because roman’s voice has his Prince Tone, which he only pulls out for official declarations.) 

logan’s not conscious for much longer after that. 

* * *

the second he sees virgil’s magic wrap around the horse, roman is running. he can hear patton’s footsteps following after him, but his eyes are locked firmly on his brother. he sinks to his knees next to logan, frantically calling his name and touching his head. his fingers come away wet with blood from a graze on logan’s temple. 

he sees patton touching virgil’s shoulder, bringing his arms down and murmuring calmly to him, but roman can only focus on his brother. “we gotta get you back to the palace,” roman says, shifting logan’s body carefully so that he can stand with his brother in his arms. the citizens are starting to gather around them, and that’s not good at all. 

“good citizens!” roman announces, pouring all his regality into his voice. “it appears there has been a mishap with a horse. my brother, prince logan, was not seriously injured, but we will take him to the court physician immediately, just to be safe.” 

a young man comes barrelling through the crowd, dropping to his knees in front of roman; he recognizes him as the castle blacksmith’s young son. “your highness! i am so sorry, please, please forgive me!” he sounds like he’s about to cry - looks it, too. “i - it was my fault! that’s father’s horse, i spooked him by dropping a bucket and he ran, please, i - i didn’t mean to hurt the prince, please!” 

“my brother is not seriously injured,” roman says, not unkindly. “i’m sure he will make a full recovery.” 

“you all might want to move out of the way,” virgil says, voice strained. “i can’t hold this stone spell forever!” roman, the young man, and patton quickly scramble away as virgil drops his glowing hands. the stone skin on the horse cracks and crumbles, dissolving into dust as the horse’s front hooves come crashing down. 

before he can rear up again, virgil grabs his bridle, pressing a hand to his chest and murmuring another spell. this one is slower, softer, and the horse calms a little, tossing his head and whinnying but no longer rearing. “shhhh, shhhh-shhhh-shhhh, there we go,” virgil murmurs, stroking the horse’s nose. “good boy.” 

“i - i’m so sorry,” the young man stammers again. roman shakes his head. 

“you don’t need to apologize, and i’m sure that logan would tell you the same thing. it wasn’t your fault that the horse was startled. go on, take him home now, and be a bit more careful that you tie him up next time, alright?” 

“of - of course! thank you, so much, prince roman, thank you so much -” the boy gasps. he takes the horse’s bridle and leads him back towards the shop. 

“patton, virgil, come with me,” roman says. they both press close behind him as he sweeps into the castle. out of the corner of his eye, he can see patton wrapping an arm around virgil to support him. 

roman tells the first servant he sees to inform thomas of what’s happened, and then he leads them to the southern wing of the palace. it’s a large, spacious suite full of windows to let the sun in, and it fences in a sheltered courtyard garden where all sorts of medicinal herbs and plants are grown. the castle doctor is draped lazily in the window seat, reading a massive leather book. “what’s happenin’, babes, you’re interruptin’ - prince roman?” 

“there was an incident, doctor picani, something’s happened to logan.” in an instant, the doctor’s manner changes. roman gently places logan on the bed, stretching him out and arranging him on his back as though he’s asleep. 

“what happened?” 

“there was a horse,” virgil says, voice whispery as he sits down hard on a chair next to the bed. “big, a draft horse. it grazed his head with its front hoof when it was spooked and rearing. he was conscious for a few minutes, if dazed, but now he - you - you have to help him, please.”  
  
doctor picani carefully cleans and bandages the cut on logan’s head. “he’s alright, prince roman. i’ll put ‘im through his paces when he wakes up, but i don’t think he’s seriously injured. now, are you gonna introduce me to these _lovely_ little darlin’s you’ve brought with you?” 

“this is patton sanders, the rightful and newly reinstated lord of the sanders manor, and his brother, virgil. patton, virgil, this is doctor remy picani.” 

“a pleasure, your lordship,” remy hums, bowing with a flourish. 

“just - just patton is fine.”

“do you want somethin’ for that magical exhaustion, babes?” 

virgil startles. “for what?”

“the magical exhaustion. it’s plain as the freckles on your brother’s face, i’d be a damn fool of a doctor if i didn’t recognize it, and i wouldn’t be a very good husband, either.” 

“you’re married?” 

remy wiggles his left hand at them, where a gold ring gleams on his fourth finger. “my husband’s one of the castle gardeners. he tends my medicinal garden for me, and he also grows the most beautiful flowers. i took his last name, because mine’s garbage. he’s got a little plant magic, and i know what magical exhaustion looks like. you’ve got it bad.” 

“i . . . yeah, i guess i have been pushing myself . . .”  
  
remy goes into the courtyard looking for his husband, and only a few minutes later the doors burst open. the noise startles virgil, who jumps, but it’s thomas, running into the room. “roman?! where is he, where’s lo?!” 

“he’s here, thomas, he’s here, he’s okay,” roman says, hurrying towards his brother. thomas catches roman and pulls him into his arms, hugging him tightly, and roman finally lets himself relax and be afraid. he hides his face in his big brother’s shoulder and pretends he isn’t shaking. 

“it’s okay, ro,” thomas murmurs, gently stroking his back. “it’s all gonna be okay.” 

* * *

when the doctor comes back, there’s a shorter man with him, holding his hand. his hair is a wild nest of curls, his eyes are unnaturally green, and he reminds virgil of patton. he’s carrying a small handful of leaves, and he quickly lights a fire with a wave of his hand under a teakettle in the corner. 

“do you how do, everybody! my husband says you’ve got some magical exhaustion symptoms?” virgil nods, a little too stunned to react properly, and the man smiles. “well, this tea’ll get you fixed up right as rain! i know how much it sucks, but don’t worry. it’ll be alright!” 

“this is emile, my wonderful husband,” remy says. emile turns pink and goes up on his tiptoes to kiss his cheek. 

“rem, you’re embarrassing me!” 

“oh, i haven’t even started embarrassin’ you, darlin’,” remy teases. emile squeaks and swats at his hand, but even though virgil is exhausted and feels as though he’s about to pass out he can tell that they love each other. the tea finishes far more quickly than it should, and emile pours him a nice warm cup. 

“drink it all up, you’ll feel loads better, i promise!” 

virgil is hesitant to sip at the tea, but emile is right. the second he swallows the first mouthful, he instantly feels revitalized. “this . . . is amazing.” 

“it is, isn’t it? you’ll still have to take it easy for a little while, no major spells for a day or so, but you’ll be alright. i hear you’re the one who saved our second prince, then?” 

“y - yeah, i - i turned the horse to stone, and then when logan was safe i dropped that spell and used a calming spell to stop the horse from freaking out more.” 

“and you put all those protection spells on me earlier,” roman adds. emile’s eyes widen, and virgil winces. 

“you did what? that’s so much magic, virgil! you’ll _definitely_ need to take it easy after all that.” 

“virgil?” roman says softly. virgil looks up at him. “it - it’s almost like you knew that logan was gonna get attacked by that horse. you reacted so fast, it’s like you - like you knew.” 

virgil feels his heart sink. 

“d . . . _did_ you know?” thomas asks. virgil stares guiltily at the ground. 

“i . . . i have . . . nightmares, sometimes. visions. they always come in sets of three - there’s something from the recent past, something from the present, and something from the near future. i had a nightmare, earlier. i - i saw something that happened during roman’s training match.” 

“past,” patton murmurs, taking his hand.

“i - i saw you two snuggling and laughing, just like you were when i burst into the room when i woke up.”  
  
“that was present then,” thomas says. 

“and - and then i - i saw logan, c - crumpled underneath a m-massive horse, and - and i knew that had to be the future. so i was - i was nervous that something might happen. so i was paying attention, but - but not enough attention to stop him from getting hurt -”

“virgil,” thomas says. virgil cuts himself off immediately. “you saved logan’s life.”

“i - wh - how -”

“if you hadn’t been here, if you hadn’t had that vision, if you hadn’t had your magic, logan would most certainly have been killed by that horse. but he wasn’t, because you saved him.” 

virgil nearly drops the teacup in shock when thomas, the king’s eldest son, the _crown prince in all but name_ , the _heir to the god damn throne_ , pulls away from roman and drops to one knee in front of him. roman stares in shock for only a moment longer before he’s following his brother’s lead. 

“wh - wha - y - your majesty, wh - what are you -”

“we owe you a great debt, virgil,” thomas says, voice formal and regal. you have the gratitude of the royal family for the service you have performed here today. this will not be forgotten.” 

“you - you don’t need to -”

“we would have lost logan without you, virgil,” roman says. he and thomas stay on one knee for a moment longer before standing up. thomas gently puts a hand on virgil’s shoulder and smiles at him, and he’s no longer the heir to the throne. he’s just a very worried, very relieved older brother. 

that puts virgil a little bit at ease. 

* * *

“roman, sweetheart?” 

patton reaches a hand toward the youngest prince. roman has his back to him, staring out the window and decidedly not looking at logan’s pale form in the bed. “ro?” 

roman turns to face him, and his eyes are watery. patton reaches toward his face, unsure if roman wants to be touched right now, but his question is answered when roman leans forward and rests his cheek against patton’s hand. patton gently sweeps his thumb over roman’s cheek and steps into his arms. 

“logan is okay,” he murmurs. “he’ll be alright.” roman is the taller of the two of them, and patton can’t stop himself from smiling as roman nuzzles into his hair. 

“i know,” he says, “but - but he’s my big brother. i’m supposed to be the fighter, the one who puts themself in danger and gets hurt protecting people, and - and he - he’s hurt now, and i can’t - if virgil hadn’t been there, i couldn’t have saved him.”

“but virgil was there,” patton soothes. “and logan’s gonna be okay.”

“i’m supposed to leave,” roman says softly. “i - i have to go, tonight, but - but i don’t want to leave while logan is still like this.” 

“you don’t have to leave just yet,” patton murmurs. “you can stay here with us for now. you can wait for a while, and when he wakes up you’ll see that he’s okay.” 

“okay . . .”

“do you have to go?” patton asks. his voice is small, and he knows it’s stupid to ask this of roman but he can’t stop himself. “you - the bandits are dangerous, right? i don’t - i don’t want it to be you in that hospital bed.” 

“it is dangerous, love, but i have to go. that’s my job as the captain of the knights and prince of the kingdom. i’m sworn to protect the citizens in any way i can, no matter what happens.”

“i understand,” patton says, because he does understand, even if he doesn’t like it. 

“but,” roman says, moving one hand to carefully tip patton’s chin back. the sunlight strikes roman’s eyes and lights them up, making his irises appear to glow, and patton forgets how to breathe. 

“i’m also sworn to you, my darling. i promised that you wouldn’t have to worry ever again, that i would be here for you from now on. i’m hardly going to let some measly troop of bandits take me away from you, am i?” 

“you promise?” 

“may i kiss you, darling?”   
  
“you may,” patton breathes, and roman kisses him. his hand slides up to twist his fingers through patton’s hair, and patton presses his entire body as close to roman as he can. roman’s other hand slides down to hold his waist, firm and protective. his thumb sweeps over patton’s hipbone, and patton is _gone_. 

they end up curled on the windowsill, snuggling in the warm sunlight. roman sits with his back braced against the wall, and patton slides up between his legs to lay against his chest. roman holds him tightly, gently stroking his back, chin resting on top of patton’s head. despite what’s happened, the sunlight is warm, and roman is warmer, and his heartbeat is strong and steady and soothing, and patton finds himself dozing off. 

he’s not sure how long he’s asleep, but he wakes up to someone gently shaking his shoulder. “lord sanders?” it’s the doctor, remy. 

“y’can call me patton,” he yawns, sitting up. roman stirs when he moves, rubbing at his eyes. 

“patton, prince roman, logan’s awake.” 

that wakes them both up almost instantly, and patton practically trips over himself as they hurry over to the bed. logan is sitting up, one hand pressed to his forehead and the other held tightly between both of virgil’s. thomas isn’t in the room, and patton watches the doctor call a servant to go and tell him the news. 

“lo!” 

logan turns to look at his brother and smiles. “hello, roman. how are you?”

“how am i?! how are _you?!_ you got knocked in the _head_ by a _horse,_ logan, i -” 

“roman, i assure you that i am alright. i have a headache, and my memory of the event is a tad fuzzy, but i will survive, i promise.” 

roman makes a weird noise and leans down to hug logan tightly. “i was so _worried_ for you, idiot brother.” 

logan hugs him back with his free hand, gently patting his shoulder. “and i care very much for you, too, roman.” 

when roman finally lets go of roman, he steps back and takes patton’s hand, lacing their fingers together. remy examines logan for a few minutes, looking at his eyes and asking him questions and taking the bandage off his head. there’s a cut on his forehead, a straight line that slices down past his temple. 

“you’re very lucky,” remy says. “a couple inches either side, and you’d’ve lost either your eye or your life. but as it stands, i think you’re alright. you’ve got a mild concussion, so you’re gonna need to take it easy for a couple days.” 

“i do not have the time for that, remy, i have work to do.” logan tries to stand up, wobbles, and immediately sits down. “oh, that - that was a poor decision.”

“yes, it was,” remy says snarkily. “you’re on bed rest for _at least_ forty-eight hours. no reading, no writing, no walking around, no nothing. you will be _sleeping_ and _resting_ , do you hear me?” 

“yes, doctor,” logan mutters. remy cleans the cut and rewraps the bandage. “do i have to stay here?” 

“i suppose you can go back to your own bedroom, prince logan.” 

“i’ll go with you,” virgil says immediately. “i’ll - i can sit with you, and i’ll - i can read to you, if you want.”

“would you do that for me?” logan asks. “i - i think i would like that very much, virgil.” virgil smiles, cheeks faint pink, and patton smiles, too. it’s become clear to him that while virgil and logan are less physically affectionate than he and roman are, they’re no less loving. 

“prince roman?” 

there’s a guard in the doorway. “your highness, the knights are ready to depart. will you be joining them?” 

roman nods. “yes, yes of course. they need me. tell them i’ll be down shortly.”

“of course, sir.” 

the guard leaves, and roman turns to patton. “i’ll be back in a few days, my darling. i promise.”

“i believe you,” patton says, pushing up to press a gentle kiss to roman’s mouth. roman smiles and kisses him again, bending him backwards just slightly with a hand on the small of his back. “be safe, roman.” 

“i will, patton.” 

* * *

when logan finally heads back to his bedroom, virgil helps him. he carefully wraps an arm around logan’s waist, and logan drapes an arm over his shoulders. they walk slowly through the castle, logan murmuring directions as they turn through the halls. 

“i’m glad you’re not dead,” virgil says, pushing open the huge door that leads to logan’s bedroom. 

“yeah?” 

“of course i am! you - you’re one of the nicest people i’ve ever met, and - and you’re really funny, even though you’re not super obvious about it like pat and his puns, and - and you’re _so_ smart, really, it scares me how smart you are sometimes and - and i just - i just really, really like you, logan.”

“i really, really like you too, virgil,” the prince says. he smiles fondly, and virgil feels his entire heart explode from joy. he carefully helps logan sit on the bed before rummaging around for the pajamas he’d borrowed from logan that first night. 

“here, you - can you get changed yourself?” 

“i think so,” he says. virgil puts his glasses on the night table and _very deliberately_ does not stare at logan’s pale skin as he gets changed. “you can look now,” logan calls, sounding amused, and virgil is certain that he’s scarlet as he turns around. 

in so doing, however, he manages to catch a glimpse of logan’s pale collarbone as he slowly finishes buttoning up his shirt, and he almost passes out himself. logan smiles at him, slow and sweet, eyes just a little hazy from his head wound, and virgil clears his head. 

“my - my book, it’s over on the armchair.”

“i thought the doctor said you were supposed to be resting, lo?”

“he did, but - but you said you were gonna read to me, didn’t you?”

“oh! right, yeah, i - i did say that.” 

virgil grabs the thick, heavy book and heaves it onto the bed. logan pulls at the covers, and virgil carefully takes them from him. “what are you doing?” 

“i - uh - i’m tucking you in. if - if you want, that is.” 

logan blushes. “i . . . would like that, yes.” 

logan crawls into bed, positioning himself against the mountains of fluffy pillows as virgil tugs the feather-filled quilt and knit blankets up around him. “you’ll be alright, logan.”

“i know,” logan smiles. “oh - virgil?”

“yeah?”

“i - i don’t think i ever said this, so - so thank you.” 

“for what?”

“i understand that you were the one who saved my life.” 

virgil feels the blush return full force. “i - it was my pleasure, lo, really, i - i couldn’t just - i couldn’t let you die.” 

“and you didn’t. i’m still here, thanks to you.” 

virgil looks at the window, because he knows that if he spends a millisecond more looking at the earnest gratitude and care on logan’s face he’ll start crying. “that’s - y-you’re welcome, logan. really.”

“i think i’d like to take a nap now,” logan says. virgil looks at him. 

“lo?”

“yes?”

“can i - no, nevermind, it’s stupid.”

“virgil.” logan reaches out and takes his hand between both of his, squeezing it gently. “nothing that you need is stupid.”

“i didn’t need it, though, i - i just wanted -”

“and your wants are not stupid, either. you have had a hard life, but no more. if there is anything i can do to make your life easier, anything that i can give you or get for you, then i will. you are not an imposition on me. tell me, what was it?” 

“i - i just . . . wanted . . . to know if i could - if i could give you a goodnight kiss,” virgil mumbles. logan stares at him for a moment before breaking into a large, dopey smile. 

“oh, virgil. you never have to ask about something like that. of course you can kiss me goodnight.” 

virgil carefully brings his hands up to cup logan’s face. “i . . . i really, _really_ like you, logan.”

“and i really, really like you,” logan says, amused. 

“i don’t - i can’t say i love you, yet, because i’ve only known you a little bit, but - but i think - i really think i could love you, logan. i really think i _will_ love you. so - so all i can say right now is that i really, _really_ like you, and hope that’s enough.”

“it is more than enough,” logan says, voice soft and sincere. “ _you_ are more than enough.”

virgil leans in to kiss him, and then he kisses him again, and again and again and again. 

logan doesn’t get to sleep for quite some time. 


	8. pattonella viii: everybody is chugging their "love and respect patton" juice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (a/n: first posted fic of the new year!) 
> 
> CW: brief nonspecific death mention, injury mention, minor angst

“so what was it like, growing up a prince?” virgil asks. logan is on his back, eyes closed, and virgil is next to him, his head is on logan’s shoulder, and logan has an arm wrapped around him. 

“it was . . . interesting,” logan hums. “my mother passed on shortly after roman was born. i did not know her well, as roman was only one when she left us and i was not yet three. thomas, however . . . thomas was five. he had memories of her, when she was born, and when she died it was . . . hard on him.” 

“i can imagine.” 

“father retreated into his work. he threw himself into the running of the kingdom to cope with his grief, and . . . and we were left to raise ourselves, among nursemaids and tutors and such. father loves us, we never doubted that. but he was . . . distant.” 

“yeah, my mom wasn’t super good at warm and fuzzy, either. and of course, i had a shitshow for a brother until i made peace with patton. you’re lucky that you had thomas and roman.” 

“they are very important to me, truly. but for the most part, i spent my childhood throwing myself into books and lessons. i know so many things i might never need to use in real life.” 

“like what?”  
  
“hmmm?”

“what kind of stuff did you learn?” 

logan gently sweeps his thumb over virgil’s hipbone. “um . . . i can play the piano, i can play the violin, i can sing classically, i can speak . . . approximately five languages, i can fire multiple ranged weapons, i can play chess -”

“i know that,” virgil says. he tilts and kisses logan’s neck, and logan makes a low, pleased noise. virgil hums in response, nuzzling him and trying to gather the strength to ask a very important question. 

“what is it, dearest?” logan asks, a smile in his voice. 

“what do you mean?”

“i can hear you overthinking about something, virgil.” 

“you don’t know that’s what i’m doing,” he says defensively. 

“that was a rather defensive tone you just took, dear.” 

“i . . . you are right, and i’m sorry. it’s just . . .”

“speak freely, virgil. you know i’ll listen, whatever the grievance.”

“not a grievance. just a question. well, a series of questions, actually, but it starts with just one question. i - i’m sorry, i know i’m bothering you when you’re supposed to be resting and all that -”

“virgil, i have been bedridden with a concussion for nearly five days. i am approaching the end of my restful period. and even if i was not, you are never a bother to me. please, ask your questions.” 

virgil takes a deep breath, inhales it and holds it and slowly exhales it. “you . . . when you and roman came to - to rescue us . . . when you brought us here, away from sanders manor . . .”

“yes?” 

“in the carriage, on the way home. you swore to me that . . . that you would never lie to me.”

a pause, a beat of silence. “i did, virgil.”

“is that still true?” 

“it is, virgil.” 

“i - i’m going to ask you a question, logan. and i want - i _need_ \- an honest answer.” 

“of course, virgil.” 

“i know that roman’s sent letters to patton, and he’s sent one to me, as well, but you’ve definitely received letters from him too, right?” 

“that i have.”

“what’s really happening?” virgil asks. “my letter just asks that i take care of patton while he’s away, and patton’s just say that roman misses him and wants to come home very soon. they don’t tell us anything about what he’s doing, or _how_ he’s doing. is he okay?” 

a pause, a heavy exhale. “he is, virgil. the bandits are proving more troublesome than he had initially thought - they caught wind of roman riding out with some knights, and they changed up their attack plans, roman is fortifying the village now and making sure that they’re ready for the next attack.” 

“is he wounded?” 

logan does not respond right away. 

“logan, you promised to answer me honestly. is roman wounded?” 

“not severely,” logan says. “i understand that an arrow grazed his arm, nicked him slightly. but he is not seriously injured. if he were, they would send him home to recover. he is alright.”

“but he hasn’t told patton, has he.”

“i suspect not. he does not wish to worry him.” 

“won’t it worry patton more not to know? to expect roman home unscathed and see him hurt?” 

“i cannot say i have historically agreed with my brother’s decision making skills, but i trust him. and besides all that, from what i understand he’ll be home soon.”

“good,” virgil sighs. “i worry for patton when roman’s away. he’s not used to being in such a large place, and he’s used to dorian treating him as worse than a servant. i think he’s going a bit . . .”

“stir-crazy?”

“yeah. when roman’s here, he takes patton around the castle and entertains him and fills his day with things to do. but now that roman’s away, patton doesn’t know what to do with himself. his whole life, almost, his days have been full of the things your servants do. he’s not used to having things done for him, he’s used to doing things for others. i’m . . .”

“worried for your brother?”

“yeah.”

“i understand. i worry for roman, and not just when he goes off to fight. i worry for thomas, too, since he is burdened with more and more responsibilities as our father takes ill. normally, one of us holds court with him - in place of a queen, you understand, or a prince consort - but with me injured and roman away he’s been holding his own. he can, of course, but still.”

virgil turns to kiss logan’s head. “i guess worrying for our brothers is another thing that brings us together, hmm?”

“i suppose so,” logan smiles. “but i’m sure that patton is fine.”

“i hope so.”

* * *

patton doesn’t think he’s suited to be royalty. 

he doesn’t know what to do with himself without roman. he’s used to having things to do, to occupy his hands and time, and now he just . . . sits around. 

he wakes up early one morning, before the curtains are open. patton’s been trying to sleep later and later, now that he doesn’t have to be up before the crack of dawn, and the curtains are always opened by the time he wakes up. there’s also a steaming tray of breakfast on the bedside table, and no matter how quickly patton thinks he bathes and dresses the dishes are always gone before he comes back. 

this morning, patton tries his best to fall back asleep, but he can’t. he stays tucked into the warm, soft mattress and the soft, downy pillows and the thick, heavy blankets, nestled securely in the four-poster bed, and he’s almost halfway to slumber again when the door creaks open. 

patton almost sits up, but remains totally still instead, measuring his breathing to ensure that it’s even and deep. a shadow enters, creeping inside, and as they approach the bed patton steels his nerves and tries to think if there’s something nearby he can bludgeon an attacker with. 

the shadow grasps the curtains at the edge of the bed and pulls them back, tying them to the side. then, it crosses to the windows and pulls the heavy drapes back, tying them off as well. when the shadow turns, patton sits up, and the shadow gasps. it’s a young man, perhaps two or three years his junior, with dark hair and wide, dark eyes (the only details patton can make out at this distance). 

“are you okay?” patton asks. the man takes a step back, as though he’s going to leave the room. “no - no, please, please stay!” 

“wh - whatever you want, your lordship.” 

“what is your name?” 

“i - nathan, your lordship. my family calls me nate.” 

“may i call you that?” 

“i - if you wish, your lordship.”

“you don’t have to call me that!” patton yawns, rubbing his eyes. “do you know where my glasses are? i can’t see a gosh-darned thing without them!” 

“on your night table, your lordship. would you like me to help you?” 

“if you could pass them to me, i’d appreciate it an awful lot!” nate hurries around the bed and holds the glasses out to patton, who takes them and slides them on. from this distance, curtains open and glasses on, he can see nate much more clearly. 

he looks absolutely terrified. 

“hey, don’t be scared,” patton says. “i’m not going to - to hurt you or anything.” 

“of course not, your lordship. i just - i’m not supposed to let you see me, sir.” 

“whyever not? i see servants around all the time, why should you be any different?” 

“the palace is meant to run like clockwork, sir. you might see some of the clock gears, but most of them operate far below your sight.” 

“you’re more important than a silly old clock gear, though,” patton says. “you’re a person! what’s your actual job title?” 

“i’m a bedroom attendant, your lordship. i bring you breakfast and clear the dishes away, and i make the bed and change the sheets and clean your clothes and take them to be mended if need be. oh, and i clean the bedroom, of course.” 

“can we change that title at all?” 

nate swallows, hard. “do . . . do you mean that . . . that you wish to fire me? has my job been . . . unsatisfactory? or is it the fact that - that you’ve seen me?” 

“no! no, no, nothing like that. i just - roman is gone, and i’m lonely. i want someone to keep me company during the day, when virgil and logan are about. you seem nice enough!” 

“you . . . you would like me to be your . . . your personal servant? your personal attendant?” nate whispers. 

“yeah! are you against that?” 

“no . . . it’s just . . . i’ve been told that - that being a personal servant to a higher up is a very good job, depending on the higher up that you work for. and you - you seem like - like a good person, your lordship.”

“excellent!” patton claps. “so how would i go about getting you as my personal attendant, then?” 

“i - i suppose you would have to talk to - to the king, your lordship, but he . . .”

“he’s ill,” patton finishes.  
  
“yes, your lordship.”  
  
“so who would i ask?” 

“i . . . suppose his highness the crown prince - well, the eldest prince, i suppose.” 

“good. i’ll go this morning! i want you to come with me, nate. are you allowed to do that?” 

“my job is to serve the royal family and their guests. that includes you, your lordship. if you request me for something, i will come.” 

“perfect, nate!” patton grins, and despite the clear nerves nate smiles back.

* * *

thomas scrubs his fist across his eyes when he sees the size of the stack of paperwork set in front of him. “what is all this?” 

“the paperwork for today, your highness.” 

“this seems like an awful lot. i’m not _really_ crown prince yet, you know, father still handles most of this stuff.” 

“your father is feeling quite ill today, your highness. i was told to add the paperwork in with your standard. should - should i not have?” 

“no, no, it’s alright. thank you. you may take your leave.” 

the servant bows her head and ducks out of the room. thomas sighs, reaching for the fountain pen resting on the edge of the desk. “more and more paperwork . . .” 

he makes it through three or four documents before someone knocks on the door and the servant from earlier pokes her head in. “your highness?” 

“yes?” 

“lord sanders is outside, requesting an audience. shall i tell him to leave?” 

“no, no, send him in.” 

the servant ducks back out, and then patton bounces in with a different servant at his heels. he’s wearing one of roman’s old outfits, a flowy red tunic top and gray pants with soft gray boots. “thomas! oh - i mean - your highness -”

“none of that,” thomas says, waving his hand and standing up to greet patton. “you’re gonna be my brother in law, pat.” patton grins again, hurrying around the table to hug him.

“oh! thomas, this is nate!” 

the servant bows to him, hands shaking slightly. “y - your highness.” 

“he’s the - what did you say your job title was, nate?”

“bedroom attendant, your lordship.”

“yeah, that! but i was wondering if we could maybe change that job title?” 

“change it? to what?” 

“uuuuh . . . nate?”

nate looks up at thomas. “lord sanders was wondering if - if it might be possible to - to change my job from bedroom attendant to - to his personal servant.”

“yeah! roman’s the only person i really know here, and he’s gone, and i’m lonely.” thomas watches patton fidget with his fingers. “i want a friend, if . . . if that’s alright. i want someone to keep me company.” 

“so what you want is a lady-in-waiting?” 

“a what?” 

thomas drops back into his chair, picking up his fountain pen and pulling another document in front of him. “if you were a noblewoman, you would have a personal servant that tended to your personal needs and served as your confidant for all things personal and private. her title would be lady-in-waiting. as you’re a nobleman, you don’t have a lady-in-waiting, but if you wanted nate to be your personal manservant, i suppose the duties would be the same.” 

patton looks at nate with wide eyes and grins. “would you like that, nate? would you like to be my personal manservant?” the servant stares at patton. “it’s okay if you don’t want to . . .”

“no! i - i would very much like to! if you would like me to, sir!” nate’s eyes are watering. “my - my mother would be so happy!” 

“your mother?” 

“she’s a cook in the castle kitchens, sir,” nate says. “she - she wanted me to be more than just a bedroom attendant, she wanted me to have a good life, i - when i tell her of this promotion, she’ll be overjoyed!” 

patton looks at thomas eagerly. “nate can be changed to that title, right?” 

thomas smiles and reaches for a clean piece of parchment.

* * *

“are you sure that you’re alright, sir?” 

roman looks up from where he’s been staring into the fire. one of his knights, claire, is frowning at him. “hmm?” she unstraps her sword and sits down next to him, balancing the sheathed blade across her armored knees. “did you need something?” 

“i asked if you were sure you’re alright, sir. you’ve been staring off strangely lately.” claire unsheathes her blade and tilts it, reflecting firelight off its perfectly sharpened edge. “it’s unlike you.” 

roman sighs. “i’m alright.” he shifts, wincing when he tugs on the bandages tied around his arrow wound. “i’m just worried about my brother.” 

“prince logan? or crown prince thomas?”

“he’s not crown prince yet,” roman responds automatically. “i’m worried about logan, because he was concussed by that horse, and i’m worried about thomas, because father is ailing and he keeps having more and more work piled on him, and i’m worried about patton because he must be so lonely without me there, and i’m just . . . worried about the kingdom in general.”

“prince logan is strong,” claire says, pulling a whetstone from a pouch and beginning to sharpen her sword. “he won’t be killed by something like a draft horse. he’s recovering well, isn’t he?” 

“yes . . .”

“and crown prince thomas will have to adjust to running the kingdom sooner or later. i’m sure he will be able to handle it. he is capable, is he not?” 

“he is . . .”

“and lord sanders has his brother to keep him company. he will adjust in time.”

“i . . . suppose . . .”

“the kingdom is healthy, prince roman. that is why we’re here, is it not? we’re here to help the kingdom stay healthy. everything will be fine. we’ll make sure of it.” 

roman smiles. “what would i do without you to keep my head on straight, claire?” she scoffs.

“there’s nothing straight about either of us, and you know that for a fact, prince roman.”

* * *

patton wakes up to nate tying the curtains back. “good morning, lord sanders!” he greets. when he steps closer, patton is able to make out his clothes. he’s wearing a pale blue tunic, with grey pants and boots and a heart-shaped crest stitched above his heart. “am i dressed appropriately?”

“that depends. what are you wearing, exactly?” 

“i’m wearing the colors and crest of the sanders estate! i looked into them in the castle library, and mother sewed the crest onto my tunic. do - do you not like it?” patton reaches out and touches the crest on nate’s chest. a memory flashes to his mind - his mother, wearing such a crest on a silver chain around her neck, bending down to kiss his forehead as she tucks him in. 

“it . . . i think it’s perfect, nate,” he says softly. nate smiles, straightening his tunic proudly. he offers patton his glasses, and the world slides sharply into focus. 

“i can fetch your breakfast from the kitchens whenever you’re ready, sir! what would you like me to bring you today?” patton hums, considering. he isn’t particularly hungry in the mornings, most times. 

“just a little toast and jam, if it’s alright. and - and perhaps some tea with honey?” 

“certainly, sir!” 

“you don’t have to do that,” patton says. “call me ‘lord sanders’ or ‘your lordship’ or ‘sir’ or anything like that. you can just call me patton.” nate shakes his head. 

“it wouldn’t be proper of me, sir. at the very least not in public. i might get scolded for being impolite, even if you told me to do so. but . . . but in private . . . perhaps i could work my way up to that, sir?” 

patton smiles. “that’s a start, nate.” 


	9. pattonella ix: virgil sweetheart PLEASE learn how to read the room i'm begging you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mentions of injury, mentions of death, nightmare, anxiety attack, mild angst

“can i _please_ be cleared to read books on my own now?” logan says. “because i love the sound of virgil’s voice, but i’m sure he has better things to be doing than sitting here reading to me at all hours.”

“shut up, there’s nowhere i’d rather be,” virgil says. he flushes immediately, but logan just smiles and reaches for his hand. remy rolls his eyes and peers into logan’s eye. 

“you were nearly _killed_ by a _horse_ , prince logan, i think you can afford to relax _just a little_.” logan huffs, sounding very much like a small child, and virgil smiles. “still, it’s been about a week . . . i _suppose_ i can clear you. but _no_ strenuous activity, and the second you start feeling any pain or discomfort or anything out of the ordinary you come and tell _me_ , you understand?” 

“crystal clear,” logan says, sitting up a little too fast and wincing. remy glares suspiciously at him, but doesn’t offer any additional commentary. “i am looking forward to the ability to walk around without you two constantly hovering over me as though i am made of spun glass.” 

“maybe if you would stop running into danger,” remy mutters. he reaches out and ruffles logan’s hair softly, and the prince doesn’t immediately bat his hand away. “i’m still sending healing potions with your meals, and you _will_ drink them all.” 

“yes, mother,” logan huffs playfully. remy rolls his eyes again and flounces out of the room. virgil has never seen a real human flounce before, but there truly is no other word to describe what remy is doing. 

“i bet you’re happy to be off bed rest,” virgil says. 

“ecstatic,” logan sighs. virgil stifles a yawn behind his fist, but logan immediately picks up on it. “what was that?”

“uh . . . a yawn?” 

“why are you yawning? has your sleep not been optimal?”

“not really . . .”

“why has it been -” logan’s eyes widen in recognition, and he frowns. “oh . . . i - i apologize, virgil.”

“why?”

“you have been awake because you were taking care of me. you have been foregoing sleep and tending to your own health because you have been so concerned for mine. i am so sorry, virgil, i did not mean to make you think that you had to -”

“shut up,” virgil interrupts. “you honestly think i would have been doing that shit if i didn’t care about you? if i didn’t give a fuck i would have fucked off and let someone else do it. i lo - i - um - i care about you a lot.” 

logan looks at him, hair adorably ruffled, eyes wide and pretty, face flushed pink from being buried under mountains of thick, warm blankets in the sunshine, and virgil immediately shoves a pillow into logan’s face to cover his massive blush. “shut up!” 

logan laughs softly, putting the pillow on the floor, and reaches out to take virgil’s hand. virgil huffs irritably, but he lets logan take it. “come and lay down, virgil. you are clearly exhausted. you must rest. you have dedicated your entire life this past week or so to caring for me, and that cannot be easy.” 

“it’s not work,” virgil says, remembering an old sappy book he’d read once. “not to me. not if it is you.” 

“i know,” logan says softly, “but you are tired. sleep, my dear. please? for me?” 

logan gently tugs on virgil’s hand, virtually no force behind it, and virgil topples onto the bed. he shuffles around, keeping his face pushed into the duvet, and manages to settle laying on his side, staring into logan’s eyes. this close, he can see all the freckles that cluster around logan’s nose and eyes. 

“you have stars on your ceiling,” virgil says, “and they’re on your face, too.” logan’s face turns a little pinker, and he smiles, reaching up to tuck a curl behind virgil’s ear. 

“you’re not sleeping,” he says. 

“how can i sleep when i’m looking at you?” virgil says. he bites his lip immediately, he can’t _believe_ he said something so sappy and gay to the _prince_ , but logan smiles and gently drags his thumb across virgil’s mouth. 

“don’t bite your lips,” he murmurs. “they’re so soft. i love to kiss them.” he leans forward and gently pushes his mouth against virgil’s, and virgil closes his eyes and exhales into the kiss. 

“here,” logan hums, carding his hand through virgil’s hair. virgil snuggles up to his chest, draping an arm over logan’s hips as he slots his legs in between his. “when i was small, before -” his chest hitches slightly under virgil’s ear. “- before my mother died, she would sing to me, and thomas used to sing it for roman and i. perhaps it will help you. i can put no magic in my voice, but i can sing.” 

“whatever you want,” virgil murmurs. “i’m sure your voice is beautiful.” 

logan takes a few deep breaths, inhales, and begins to sing. “ _[A naeoidhean bhig, cluinn mo ghuth Mise rid' thaobh, O mhaighdean bhan . . .](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wqOmlipOGe0&list=PL3FF28E3E880D37EB&index=17&t=0s)_ ” 

virgil is so taken with the beauty of logan’s rich voice that he isn’t sure how he manages to fall asleep at all.

* * *

_everything is black, and suddenly remy appears, shining a small light into logan’s eyes to assess the severity of his concussion. past._

_everything is black, and suddenly logan appears, stroking his hand through virgil’s hair, mouth open, eyes half-shut as he sings. present._

_everything is black, and suddenly roman appears, sword raised in front of his chest, blocking one, two, three blows before an arrow pierces his shoulder, his chest, his stomach, his neck._

_future._

* * *

logan is half-asleep when virgil bolts upright, eyes flaring purple, screaming. “virgil -”

“ _ **something is wrong, something is wrong with roman!**_ ” virgil shrieks, voice warped and distorted and strange. logan feels his heart turn to ice and drop into his stomach. 

“what is wrong with my brother?” 

“ ** _i had a vision, he was fighting, he got pierced by arrows and he went down and something is going W R O N G logan!_** ” 

before logan can stop him, virgil is on his feet, scrambling out of bed so fast he almost faceplants onto the ground. he’s out the door before logan can stop him, but he’s on his feet almost immediately to chase him.

* * *

“are you sure this is a good idea?” claire says. her hands are clasped behind her back as she studies the map roman has spread out on the table. it’s covered in red x’s and dotted lines, surrounded with candles, with a dagger sticking out of a particular clump of trees. 

“we know that’s where they’re hiding,” roman says. “they won’t attack this village as long as we’re here, they’ll wait until we decide to ‘abandon’ these people and then they’ll raze it to the ground. we have to strike at the root of this issue, and that means attacking their hideout. we ride at dawn.” 

“prince roman,” claire says, “you know that i am your most loyal advisor. i would request permission to speak freely.” 

“granted, claire, always granted.” 

“prince roman, i think this is foolish. they let us find that base easily, too easily. i suspect it is a trap.” 

“they’re probably setting one,” roman sighs, pushing a hand through his sweaty hair. “but what do you want me to do? not attack? we know that they’re _there_ , we know that they’re planning something!” 

“wait a day or two,” claire says. “take some time to plan a strategy. send a scout to see if there are any obvious traps that we can plan for. we have to play this smart so that we don’t end up losing soldiers.” 

“so we don’t end up losing me, you mean.”

“you are the prince of our kingdom, prince roman. you have two brothers waiting for you at home, not to mention the newly-discovered lord sanders. we cannot risk bringing you home as a corpse.” 

“you don’t have to coddle me, claire, i’m not made of glass!” 

“i never suggested as much, prince roman,” claire says coolly. “i am merely reiterating that you should remember that you cannot throw yourself recklessly into danger with no consideration of those waiting for you at home. i will leave you to your thoughts. should you choose to march in the morning, we will of course support you, but i suggest you reconsider this plan.” 

she ducks out of the tent, and roman sighs, running his fingers over the depiction of the sanders manor in the corner of the map. “patton . . . i want to come home to you . . . but i have to free these people. how do i balance this?” 

he pulls the dagger out of the map and twirls it around in his hands. he has a lot of thinking to do.

* * *

“i’m not sure this is okay for me to do,” thomas says, looking hesitantly at the dais. the king’s throne stands tall and regal, with the queen’s throne smaller but no less regal beside it. 

“you are the crown prince,” joan, the advisor beside him, says. “it is your right.” they hold out a small velvet pillow with the circlet of the crown prince resting on it, opal gleaming rainbow in the morning sunlight. 

“i’m _not_ the crown prince,” thomas protests. “roman and logan aren’t married yet, i can’t legally be named the crown prince, and i’m not allowed to wear that or - or sit on the throne, or do any of this!” 

joan sets the crown on the dais and reaches out to gently take his hand. “prince thomas . . .”

“dad is still alive,” thomas says, eyes watering. “he’s weak, and he’s sick, but he’s not _dead_ yet, i’m not - i don’t have to replace him yet . . .”

“i’m sorry, prince thomas,” joan murmurs. “i didn’t realize that it would affect you like that, i -”

“it’s not your fault,” thomas sniffles, wiping at his eyes. “i know you guys don’t think about it like that, but - but it’s my _dad_ , you know? i know the kingdom is going to lose its leader soon, but - but i’m gonna lose my dad, you know?” 

joan nods, squeezing his hand and offering a handkerchief from their pocket. thomas takes it, dabbing at his face. “thank you, joan.”

“of course, prince thomas. you can stand on the dais if you want, since you still have to receive -” 

the door to the throne room slams open, wood ringing against stone, and thomas whirls around. before he can even reach for the hidden dagger he carries on his person always, before joan can step in front of him, virgil is speeding across the room. there are two guards behind him, trying to catch him, but virgil is outpacing them rapidly. 

“virgil?”

once he gets closer, thomas gasps, taking in details. his hair is unkempt, his clothes are askew, and his eyes are glowing solid purple. “ ** _crown prince thomas_ ,**” he says, and thomas winces at the distortion of his voice. “ ** _i have had a vision that must be brought to your attention immediately_.**”

“you can see the future?” joan gasps. 

“what did you see?” thomas asks. 

“ ** _prince roman is in danger_** ,” virgil says. “ ** _there will be an attack, and he will be killed by arrows. we must aid him immediately_.**” 

there’s a watery noise from behind virgil, and he spins around to see patton standing behind him pressing his hands over his mouth. “roman - roman is going to die?” 

the purple in his eyes flickers away. “ _ **wh - pa** tty_?” 

“roman is going to _die_?” patton repeats, hurrying forward and grabbing virgil’s hands. 

“not necessarily,” virgil says, putting a hand to his head and beginning to sag forward against patton. “i - the vision showed him dying, but it also showed that giant horse killing logan a week or so ago, and he’s still alive.”

“we have a chance to stop it?” thomas says. virgil turns to look at him. 

“i - yes, your highness, i think there is a chance to save him.” 

thomas nods. “are you sufficiently prepared to travel?” 

“i can be in an hour at the least.”

“good. take a party of guards and go after roman.”

“i’m coming too,” logan says, striding through the doors. “remy cleared me from my concussion earlier, i’m going.”

“me too!” patton says. “i’m going with you, if roman is in trouble i have to help!” 

“i can’t risk you both,” thomas starts, but logan glares at him. 

“are you telling me that if father was well and running the kingdom, you wouldn’t be grabbing a sword and riding after him?” thomas winces, and logan lifts his chin victoriously. “exactly. i am going with virgil, and so is patton. roman is worth the risk.” 

thomas exhales. “go and pack, then. meet me here in an hour with a plan.” logan nods, whirls around, and hurries out of the room with virgil and patton on his heels. thomas hums, turning to joan. “i need you to bring me a specific volume of the history of the kingdom from the library.”

“of course, your highness. may i ask what for?” 

“i think i just found logan’s loophole.” 


	10. pattonella x: in which the author cannot write a fight scene to save her life but attempts to do so anyway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: cartoon/fantasy violence, injury, passing out, death of unnamed background villains, swearing

in the end, it’s patton who stays behind. 

“you don’t have any battle experience,” virgil says. 

“you don’t either!”

“i’ve been trained in self-defense my whole life,” virgil says. “i used to have to spar against dorian when he was learning. and i have magic to compensate for when my skills fail me. you don’t have either of those things.”

“not to mention, roman will become distracted enough when he sees us ride to his rescue,” logan says. “if he realizes you are there as well, his distraction will be heightened, and the likelihood of his injury will increase.” 

virgil watches patton open his mouth to argue, tense his shoulders, and bow his head. “you’re right,” he says. “but - but roman is my - my - i care about him, and i care about you too, logan, and - and virge, you’re my brother! what if something happens?”

“nothing is gonna happen to us, pat.” virgil holds his hand out, and a shimmering purple hexagon appears over his palm. “i’ve got magic to shield us and keep us safe. logan and i will come home safe, and we’ll bring roman back to you alive. i promise.” 

patton wrings his hands anxiously, reaching forward and making small grabby hands at his brother. virgil surges forward and pulls him into a hug, wrapping one hand tightly around patton’s waist and letting the other one weave up into his hair. “it’s okay, pat. just wait here with nate, and i promise we’ll bring roman back.”

“i trust you,” patton says. “i always trust you, you know that. i just - i’m -”

“hey, you’re talking to the living embodiment of anxiety,” virgil jokes. patton laughs wetly into his shoulder. virgil leans back and presses his forehead to patton’s. it’s the most intimate display of love and trust between family, one that had taken virgil years to be fully comfortable with. patton exhales shakily. 

“i trust you,” patton says, softer this time, he kisses virgil’s forehead and smiles, eyes watering. “come home safe, okay vee?” 

“of course, pat.”

“i love you.”

“i love you too, pat.” 

patton looks to the doorway, where nate is waiting. virgil smiles when he sees patton’s family crest sewn over nate’s heart. patton squeezes virgil’s hand before following nate out of the armory. virgil exhales and turns to look at logan. the second prince has a crossbow strapped to his arm, two quivers slung over his shoulders, a box of crossbow bolts on each hip, and a proper bow in his hand. 

“that’s a lot of weaponry.”

“these are the weapons in which i am most proficient,” logan says. “do you have a weapon of choice?” 

virgil looks at all the weapons hanging on the walls. there are halberds bigger than he is, morning stars so heavy he doubts he could lift them, battle axes with blades thicker than his arm. he carefully selects a slender basket-hilted sword and straps the belt around his waist. he also pulls a few daggers off the wall and tucks them into the straps on his belt. 

“an interesting choice of weaponry,” logan says. “knives take a great deal of speed and skill to use properly in battle.”

“you’ve got one, don’t you?” 

“my weapons are primarily long-range,” logan says. “they are fired from horseback. i do not engage in direct combat if i can help it. that is not my area, not like it is roman’s. i do far better with the strategy of war than the actual fighting.”

“bet that’s why you’re so good at chess, huh?” virgil teases. logan smiles and steps forward. 

“i find that i would very much like to kiss you now, virgil.”

“i think that’s acceptable,” virgil says. logan gently holds his face with one hand, and virgil leans into logan’s long, cool fingers. his thumb strokes gently beneath virgil’s eye, and then logan leans in and kisses him. their noses bump together, and when virgil loops his arms around logan’s neck his fingers brush the fletching of the arrows.

“nothing is going to happen to roman,” virgil says. “nothing is going to happen to you. i won’t let it. i’ll die before i let that happen.”

“please do not die,” logan says, voice strangled. 

“i don’t plan to.” logan looks like he wants to argue more, but virgil kisses the words right out of his mouth.

* * *

thomas comes down to see them go. 

he watches logan saddle up his dappled grey horse, watches virgil tentatively pat the nose of his black horse, watches them load up saddlebags of supplies. logan is wearing chainmail, leather gloves, and leather arm guards, but virgil doesn’t have any armor on. 

“is that wise?” thomas asks. logan turns to face him. 

“virgil insisted that he did not want to be weighed down with armor.” 

“i notice your armor is fairly light as well.” thomas tries not to sound disapproving. judging by logan’s facial expression, he has not succeeded. 

“virgil has layered additional protection spells on both of us. heavy armor will only slow me down.” 

“patton is not with you.”

“he has less combat experience than we do, so he is staying in the castle.” logan’s face darkens with emotion so quickly that thomas can’t pinpoint what exactly he’s feeling. “thomas . . . please keep an eye on him?”

“of course, lo.” thomas wants to hug him tightly, wants to press his face into logan’s hair and beg his little brother to come home safely, but they are in the very public courtyard and he thinks it unwise. instead, he grips logan’s shoulder and squeezes just a touch too tightly. “be careful.”

“i always am,” logan says softly. 

thomas watches logan mount his horse, taking the reins with an expert hand. virgil takes a few more tries to get onto his horse, gripping the reins a little more tightly than logan does. he wathes them kick their horses into action and canter out of the castle courtyard. 

he curls his fingers tightly in the hem of his shirt and exhales a short, sharp prayer to whatever god may be listening. _please, let them come home safe. all of them._

* * *

the village roman left to defend is roughly a day or two’s ride away from the castle at a measured pace. when they break at noon for lunch, logan spreads a map out and weighs it down with two rocks and curses. “this is nowhere near enough progress,” he curses. 

virgil looks up at him, and logan tries to release some of the stress from his tone. there’s no point in taking out his frustration on virgil; it isn’t his fault. “i know that there is no way for us to know when your vision will occur, but the sooner we can get to roman, the sooner we can protect him. what if we get there, and your vision has already transpired?” 

he kicks angrily at the grass, and virgil sets down the bread he’d been eating. logan feels a hand on his and a head leaning against his shoulder, and he exhales slowly. “roman is my baby brother,” he says softly. “even though he is the captain of the guard and he is the knight, i have always seen it as my responsibility to care for him and keep him safe. when - when our mother -”

logan cuts off, swallowing once, twice to control his emotions. “when our mother passed on, roman was . . . too young, really, to remember her. but thomas and i, we remember. we were there, shortly before the illness took her, and she made thomas promise to take care of me, and she made me promise to take care of roman. i take that very seriously.”

“i get it,” virgil says. “i take care of patton, even though he’s older than me.” 

“he is my brother,” logan repeats. he feels stupid for not being able to articulate his feelings more clearly, but virgil nods against his shoulder. 

“i understand.” 

he gently kisses logan’s neck, which makes logan shiver, and steps away. “maybe i can help.”

“what do you mean?” 

“i’m magic, l.” virgil carefully approaches the horses and lifts his hands. purple light begins to swirl around him, escaping in wisps from his fingertips and shining from every lock of his hair, which ruffles in some nonexistent wind. the horses toss their heads nervously, but virgil speaks a single word in that ancient, lost-to-time magical language, and they calm almost instantly. 

virgil lifts his hands, and he speaks. 

logan has studied many languages extensively. his role in life has always been perfectly clear: thomas is the crown prince, destined to be the next king; roman is the knight, the protector; logan is the diplomat, the lawmaker. even if he cannot speak a language, he can usually understand or at least recognize it. 

he doesn’t think anyone has ever heard the language virgil speaks to use magic. he doesn’t even know if _virgil_ is consciously aware of the fact that he is speaking another language. logan can’t tell a noun from a verb from an adjective when virgil speaks, but he usually gets so enthralled in the way all of virgil’s speech flows together seamlessly to look for individual words. 

logan is not prone to figurative language. however, he thinks that if he _had_ to assign a simile to his feelings when he listens to virgil speak magic, he would probably compare it to an orchestra. he could listen to pick out each instrument and its contribution to the whole, but it disrupts the collective genius of the whole. for once in his life, logan closes his eyes and stops trying to actively examine every single piece of the input he’s receiving. 

he just listens as virgil speaks. 

virgil finishes the spell with a flick of his wrists. purple magic speeds out from each hand and coils around the hooves of the horses before dissipating into sparkles. “what was that?” logan asks. 

virgil’s hair settles around his face, and when he turns to look at logan his irises gleam with the faintest spark of purple. “a speed spell, with any luck. i never really had any formal magic training, so for the most part i just kind of guess? i dunno, i concentrate really hard on the effect i wanna have and then the words just . . . come to me.” 

logan means to ask virgil if he can run some tests on this phenomenon once they have rescued roman and returned home safely. what comes out of his mouth is, “you are the single most fascinating creature on this planet.” 

virgil’s pale skin flushes pink to red to scarlet, and he rubs the back of his neck. “oh - geez, l, i - uh - really?”

“i would not say it if i did not mean it,” logan says earnestly. virgil’s eyes skitter from his shoulder to his ear to his face, and logan steps forward to kiss him gently. 

“we - we should finish eating,” virgil says. “and we should get going.”

“i agree.”

* * *

virgil breathes a quiet sigh of relief when he realizes that his speed spell works. the countryside passes them by in streaks of blurred color, even though their horses don’t appear to be moving any faster than a normal canter to either him or logan. when they dismount outside the village, virgil feels faintly dizzy, but logan is right there with a steadying hand on his elbow. 

“do you hear that?” he whispers. 

virgil does not, but logan slides his bow off his shoulder and grips it tightly. “distant fighting. i do not see any signs of conflict in the village, which means it must be elsewhere.” his hands shake ever so slightly, and virgil reaches up and takes logan’s free hand in his before he knows what he’s doing. 

“it’s okay,” he says. “we’re here. we’ll find ro, we’ll keep him safe, we’ll bring him home, okay?” 

logan lets out a long, controlled exhale. “okay. you are right, of course, my love.” virgil feels a pleasant fire curl in his chest at the nickname. “is the speed spell still on the horses?” 

“no, it dissolved when we got here. i could try and put it back on?”

logan shakes his head. “conserve your magical energy for the fight. if we can hear the battle, they cannot have gotten too far from us. we will lead the horses into town and ask if anyone has seen the prince.” 

virgil takes his horse’s reins in his hand and walks beside logan. as they enter the village, logan’s entire demeanor changes. he pushes his shoulders back, lifts his head, sets his jaw; his eyes become hard and focused. he looks less like logan, virgil’s . . . boyfriend? fiancé? partner? . . . and more like the kingdom’s second prince. 

a young woman looks up from sweeping the street in front of her house, catches sight of logan, and immediately drops into a deep curtsy. “your highness!” logan lifts a hand in greeting. 

“rise,” he tells her. “this is my consort, virgil. we are looking for my brother, his highness prince roman, who was dispatched here with some knights eight days ago to resolve a bandit situation.” 

“his highness lead the knights and some of our able-bodied villagers into the woods to ambush the bandits,” she tells them. “we hear the distant fighting, but we have no news. they left mid-morning.” 

logan nods. “thank you.” she curtsies again as logan swings up onto his horse. virgil grips his saddle and pulls himself up onto his own horse as best he can. “virgil, we must hurry.” 

“yeah.” 

they follow the path into the woods, hearing the sound of battle grow louder and louder. logan stops abruptly, dismounting and tying his horse up to a nearby tree. “we will be faster and less conspicuous on foot,” he whispers. virgil quickly dismounts and ties his own mount next to logan’s. he draws his sword, flexing his fingers around the hilt; logan pulls an arrow from one of his quivers and notches the arrow. 

virgil listens to the battle grow louder and louder and prays that they aren’t too late.

* * *

dodge, roll, parry parry _thrust_ slash shield up and _block_ , spin and _counter_ , thrust forward and _bash_ and bring your sword up and then _down_ , flat on your back with the wind knocked out of you, no time to recover bring your sword up _now_ and block the strike, kick out and knock him down, spring up, sword _down_ \- 

roman loses himself to the rhythm of the fight. he can feel claire at his back, feel the adrenaline singing in his veins. these are his people; he swore an oath to defend them. he cannot let them down. he will not allow himself to be defeated. 

in the corner of his eye, he sees movement behind him. there is movement all around him in the chaotic ocean of battle, and he has to focus on the three bandits bearing down on him from the front. he has no time to turn and look behind him, and then -

an arrow sprouts out of the neck of the largest bandit. he gasps, chokes, drops his weapon and fumbles for his throat as he drops to his knees. roman is confused. he doesn’t remember bringing any archers in his encampment. he squints at the arrow and realizes that it’s fletched with dark blue. 

only one archer in the kingdom uses such arrows. 

the other two bandits grip their weapons more tightly. roman lifts his sword, and then -

“ ** _roman, get down, NOW!_** ” 

roman whirls around in time to see an enemy archer in the trees. they fire, and he freezes; he can’t get out of the way in time, he won’t make it -

the arrow strikes a shimmering purple hexagon and drops harmlessly to the forest floor. behind him, roman hears a dull metallic _thunk_ , spinning on his heel to see the weapons of the remaining bandits hit a wall of purple hexagons. two more dark-blue-fletched arrows sprout from their necks, and they drop like flies. 

logan is nowhere to be seen, but the enemy archer falls out of the tree with a cluster of arrows in her chest. virgil bursts into the clearing, hands glowing bright purple. he draws the sword hanging at his hip, and purple light spirals down the blade. “ ** _come and get me, motherfuckers!_** ” he shrieks, head wreathed in purple fire, eyes glowing. 

bandit after bandit falls to logan’s arrows, but none of them can seem to find where, exactly, the second prince is. virgil is swarmed by bandits, but he stabs his sword into the ground and produces a shockwave of purple magic that sends them all flying. the wounds he leaves glow with purple light, and any bandits bearing such wounds stagger to an unconscious halt within minutes, no matter how slight the wound. 

virgil slashes his way across the battlefield. his hair whips around him, and a string of rotating purple hexagons swirl around his body. whenever an attack comes towards him, whether it be an arrow or a sword or a fist, a hexagon detaches from the string and grows and blocks the attack. roman can feel himself beginning to flag, but he finds himself face to face with virgil. he lifts his glowing sword and touches the tip to roman’s chest. 

roman inhales sharply as strength and vigor begin to flood into him. “ ** _i have dispatched the enemy_** ,” virgil rumbles. “ ** _take their energy and drive them out._** ” roman connects the power in hie veins to the comatose bandits on the forest floor and grins. virgil smiles back at him, feral and unhinged, and whirls around to bring his sword crashing down on the head of a bandit attempting to sneak up behind him. 

another arrow blooms from the shoulder of a nearby bandit, and roman raises his sword.

* * *

the battle goes swiftly with virgil and logan’s assistance. 

roman hoists his sword high over the clearing as the last of the bandits flee and fall beneath his forces. “victory!” he cries. the rest of his knights lift their weapons and echo his sentiment. he sees claire across the battlefield, wincing as she makes her way over to him. 

“are you injured?” 

“a few cuts, probably a mild sprain. i’ll be alright, your highness. you?” 

roman looks down at his arms and inhales shakily. there are a few small cuts littering his hands and forearms, but as he watches purple light travels across them and leaves clean, unbroken skin in its wake. he looks up to see virgil, still glowing with an almost unholy light, sword almost too bright to look at. 

“ ** _i have more energy than i can contain_** ,” virgil says. his eyes are solid purple, glowing as he stares at roman. “ ** _if his highness permits it, i will heal his knights._** ”

“will it hurt you?” roman asks. 

“ ** _i have the energy to spare_**.”

roman looks at claire, then back to virgil, and nods. “do it.” 

virgil nods. “ ** _as you wish._** ” he turns his back to logan, heaves his sword up with two hands, and drives the blade into the earth. another shockwave of purple magic ripples out over the battlefield. instead of damge, however, this one bathes roman’s knights and the villagers who’d accompanied them in soft purple light. gasps of shock echo across the battlefield as tendrils of magic wrap around any injuries sustained in battle and carefully heal them. 

“roman!” 

roman whirls around to see logan drop from a tree and sprint across the battlefield. he’s breathing heavily; there’s a slice on his cheek from where his bowstring must have rebounded, and his fingers are bruised and rubbed raw. logan drops his bow and grips roman’s shoulders. 

“are you alright?! have you sustained any serious injury?!”

“what are you doing here?” roman asks. 

“virgil had a vision,” logan says. “you were struck by an arrow and killed in battle. we could not let that happen, roman, i -”

roman drops his sword, decorum be damned, and throws himself forward to hug his brother. logan stiffens at the sudden contact, but quickly melts to hold him tightly. “i was so scared,” logan murmurs. “i know you are a competent swordsman, but when virgil told me you were fated to _die_ , i -”

“i know,” roman murmurs. he pushes his face into logan’s neck; his brother is sweaty and too-warm, but roman refuses to let go. “i know, but i’m here. i’m okay.” 

logan pulls back and studies him critically. “are you injured?”

“i was.” 

“what do you mean, wa - _virgil_?!” 

virgil slowly approaches them, still surrounded by ethereal purple light. “ ** _beloved_** ,” he says. logan swallows, hard. “ ** _you are injured. allow me to help you._** ” he steps forward, brings his glowing hands up, and pulls logan into a deep kiss. logan’s eyes widen in shock before slipping shut. virgil supports logan as he dips him backwards, and purple light travels through logan. roman watches his cuts seal up and his injuries heal themselves. 

logan brings a hand up to touch his lips when virgil finally breaks the kiss. “i . . . you . . . wh . . .”

virgil smiles. it’s different than the feral grin he’d had in the heat of battle; this one is soft and loving. “ ** _beloved_** ,” he says again. virgil blinks, and the purple light dissipates from him all at once. he sways on his feet, looking completely and utterly exhausted, and pitches forward into logan’s arms. 

“ _virgil!_ ” logan gasps, catching him and slowly lowering them to the ground. 

“shit, is he -”

logan already has two fingers on his neck looking for a pulse. “his pulse is weaker than i would like, but he is breathing. i suspect he overexerted himself during that fight. i have never seen him use that much magic at once.”

“the doc will be able to help him, right?” 

“most assuredly,” logan says. he looks up at roman and sighs. “would you care to return home, roman?” 

roman thinks of patton, bright and smiling, running to greet him in the courtyard. he pictures sweeping patton off his feet and spinning him around and showering his round face in kisses before connecting their mouths and thoroughly reacquainting himself with the taste of his beloved. 

“yeah, lo. let’s go home. 


	11. pattonella xi: gratuitous references to "the oh hellos" and also them SOMFT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: injury mention, hospital 
> 
> the song that logan sings is "constellations" by the oh hellos; it's linked in text. i recommend listening bc it's gorgeous

the villagers insist on throwing a feast that night to celebrate the bandits’ defeat. logan takes the opportunity to send a message to the castle via bird, telling thomas that they will return home tomorrow and telling remy and emile to prepare for virgil. roman dances around the bonfire with the villagers, laughing and joining in the party. logan, meanwhile, remains in the town’s small inn, sitting next to the bed. 

virgil is asleep, chest rising and falling. he’s been asleep since he collapsed in the woods, and logan is honestly unsure when he’s going to wake up. he knows that virgil is alive, but at the same time . . . 

he thinks back to virgil in the woods, glowing with power, eyes a blank sheet of light as he send shockwaves through the clearing. he thinks back to virgil’s voice, low and powerful, leaning in and calling him “beloved.” he thinks back to the way virgil dipped him, pressing a searing kiss to his mouth and burning the exhaustion right out of him. 

logan lifts his fingers and drags them across his cheek. his bowstring had snapped back during the fight, and it should have scarred and bruised or at least been tender. there’s nothing under his fingers but smooth, unblemished skin. he studies his fingers; they should be rubbed red and raw, he should barely be able to curl his fingers without pain. instead, he has full range of motion, and he isn’t in any pain at all. 

virgil had taken all of his pain and injuries and wiped them away like they were nothing. logan looks at virgil, wincing when he sees the dark circles under his eyes and the way his hair sticks to his sweaty forehead. 

“oh, beloved,” logan whispers, reaching out to touch his cheek. “i cannot wait to see your eyes open and hear your voice again.” 

virgil breathes, slow and deep, and logan gently leans in to kiss his forehead.

* * *

patton is vibrating with nervous energy in the castle courtyard. thomas is standing on the steps of the castle, flanked by the advisor he’d been with when logan and virgil left and two guards. nate stands a few feet away from patton, watching him as he bounces on the balls of his feet. 

“are you okay?” nate asks. 

“yeah! i’m okay, i just - i’m so - i want - roman’s coming home! and virgil, and prince logan!” patton eagerly waves his hands around, bouncing up and down. “i’m so excited!” he turns around when he hears something behind him and sees the doctor from earlier, remy, coming down the stairs accompanied by two servants carrying a stretcher. “what - who’s hurt?” his stomach sinks. 

“easy there, patton-cake,” remy says. “nobody’s badly hurt. from the sound of prince logan’s letter, your brother went and pushed himself nigh on magical burnout, so he’s gonna need some serious help, but he’ll be alright.” 

“he - wh - what does that mean?” patton asks. before remy can answer, horns sound in the distance, along with hoofbeats on the cobblestone. patton whirls around, roman’s borrowed tunic swishing like a dress around his knees. the people gathered in the streets begin to cheer loudly as the hoofbeats grow louder and louder. 

the horse at the beginning of the procession is a palomino shining like pure gold in the sunlight, brilliant white mane and tail streaming in the wind. roman sits tall and proud on its back, looking every inch the prince he is. patton can see logan behind him, riding a dappled horse with the reins of a black horse in his hand. there’s a body tied onto the black horse; patton tries not to think about it. the rest of the knights follow behind the two princes, one of them flying the banner of the kingdom. 

roman’s horse rears as he pulls the reins taught, coming to a halt in front of patton. “prince captain roman,” thomas says, voice booming and formal. “i trust you were successful in your mission?” 

“we were,” roman says. “the bandits are vanquished, and they will no longer darken the village’s doorstep again.” it’s strange, hearing the normally goofy and affectionate roman sound so formal and almost . . . stilted, but patton had been fully briefed. thomas, logan, and roman all have ways in which they are expected to act in public as the three princes of the kingdom. 

“excellent,” thomas says. “you have done well, prince roman, and you have made your family and your kingdom very proud.” stable attendants come up as roman dismounts, taking the reins of his horse. roman gently pats the horse’s nose. before coming up and bowing to thomas. “remy, i believe you have a stretcher for virgil?” 

“of course, your most royal highness,” remy says. logan carefully dismounts his own horse and takes virgil into his arms. patton makes an unhappy noise when he sees how pale and limp virgil is, but the stretcher attendants hurry over. logan gently lays virgil on the stretcher, touching his forehead softly. 

the rest of the knights dismount as well, taking their horses to the stables. two more attendants come for logan’s horse, as well as the one virgil had been riding, and logan comes up to stand next to roman. 

“i will receive you privately inside,” thomas says. “come with me.” he, the advisor, and the guards head back into the castle as roman and logan approach the stairs. patton looks at roman, and the youngest prince smiles at him, taking his hand and kissing it gently. 

“lord sanders,” he says, smiling. “truly, it is a blessing to be graced with your glorious visage.” he offers his arm to patton. “might i escort you inside?” 

“of course, prince roman,” patton says. he has to fight back a giggle at how silly and formal they sound as he takes roman’s offered elbow. they ascend the stairs together, nate at patton’s side, and roman leans down to whisper into patton’s ear. 

“i really, _really_ missed you, pat.” 

patton looks up at him and grins. “me too,” he murmurs.

* * *

roman is amazed that he maintains his princely composure until they get into the private sitting room. once nate shuts the door behind them, roman scoops patton up into his arms and whirls him around. patton shrieks with laughter as he locks his arms around roman’s neck. roman quickly grips underneath patton’s thighs, nuzzling into patton’s fluffy curls. 

“patton, patton, patton, _patton_ , oh, i missed you so much, my sunshine love!” 

“roman!” patton laughs, clinging to him tightly. roman dizzily stumbles to a chair and sets patton down. 

“just one moment, my dearest. let me shed this armor and i will be all yours.” roman quickly sheds the heavy plates of his armor, his boots, and his chainmail, leaving himself in an undershirt and pants and socks. thomas stifles laughter as roman kicks the pile of armor across the room, scoops patton up, and settles into the chair with patton curled in his lap. 

roman reaches up and takes patton’s face in his hands, letting his fingers slide into patton’s hair. he leans up and showers patton’s face in little kisses all over - his forehead, his eyelids, his nose, his cheeks, his chin, his jaw. finally, _finally_ , after he’s pressed a kiss to every single other inch of skin on patton’s face, he lands on patton’s mouth. patton squeaks in surprise and leans into the kiss, and roman pulls back when he feels something wet on his cheeks. 

“dearest, why are you crying?” 

“i - i just - oh, roman, i _missed_ you so _much_ -”

“oh, my darling, i missed you as well,” roman sighs. “it was so hard to be away from you, knowing that you were all alone here in a strange place.” 

“i wasn’t completely alone!” patton says. “nate was with me!” roman looks to see the servant, standing next to the door and wearing the crest of the sanders estate on his chest. “he used to be the person who changed my bedding and stuff, but your brother made him my - uh - what do you call it, nate?” 

“personal servant, lord sanders.” nate’s voice is light, slightly teasing, and roman turns to face him more directly. 

“nate, was it?” 

the servant stiffens in terror. “y - yes, your royal highness?” 

roman smiles. “thank you for taking care of my dearest one while i was away. i appreciate it greatly.” nate smiles, looking less terrified than he had, and roman returns to thoroughly reacquainting himself with the feel of patton’s mouth and back and hands and hips and legs. 

“oh, i missed you,” roman says. “every night, i thought of you. every day, i thought of you. no matter what i was doing, you were always on the back of my mind. i just - i was waiting for the day i could come home to you.” 

“i wanted you home so badly,” patton whispers. “i - i knew that you would come home safe, and i know it’s your job, but - but i was so _scared_ for you. and - and vee, what happened to vee?” 

roman quietly details what happened during the fight - virgil’s glowing eyes, his magic, the way he’d healed them all and then collapsed. patton frowns. “he’s never expended that much magic before . . . will he be okay?” 

“he is with remy and emile,” logan says from the sofa. “they are skilled in their craft. they will take care of him.” roman looks over patton’s shoulders to see thomas pull logan into a hug. he’s shocked to see logan reciprocate, hugging thomas tightly. 

roman carefully sets patton on the chair and stands up, crossing the room to his brothers. when thomas lets logan go, he pulls roman in. “i was so worried for you, roman,” thomas hums, pushing his face into roman’s hair. “i know you’re strong. i know you’re capable. but every time i have to send you away, send you off to fight, to maybe _die_ -”

thomas tightens his arms around roman, and roman lets himself melt into his oldest brother. 

“you and lo are really the only family i have left,” thomas says. “dad . . . he hasn’t really been here since mom died. and now that he’s sick, it’s only getting worse.” 

“i know,” roman says. he makes a grabby hand for logan, who rolls his eyes but lets them fold him into the hug. “i love you both so much. you know that, right?” 

“of course we know,” logan says. “we love you as well. you are our brother.” 

roman lets himself stay in that embrace for a few moments more before carefully pulling away and turning back to where patton is sitting on the chair, smiling fondly at him. roman bounces over to him, scooping him up and kissing him. “hello, my sunshine,” roman coos. 

“hello again,” patton giggles. roman lets himself fall into the rhythm of murmuring soft compliments to patton and petting his hair and kissing him and being kissed by him, and then -

“oh!” thomas says. “i have news for you all. it concerns virgil.” 

“virgil?” logan asks, frowning. “but remy has barely assessed him. surely we would have heard -”

“not about the magical exhaustion,” thomas says. “the other thing.”

“what other thing?” patton asks, looking at roman. roman shrugs. 

thomas sighs, sinking into a soft chair. “technically, there is a hitch with logan and virgil getting married.” patton gasps, and roman tightens his grip on him, soothingly. “the law does not permit royalty to marry anyone unless they are nobility or royalty themselves. as the heir to the sanders estate, you’re okay, patton. but virgil -”

“is my brother!” patton says defensively. 

“yes, but not by blood. you’re step-brothers, legally, and as such he isn’t recognized as nobility. so that means -”

“we can’t get married,” logan says softly. 

“that - that’s a stupid rule!” patton says. 

“it is,” thomas says. “unfortunately, i can’t change the law until i become the crown prince, at least, and since i can’t become crown prince until my brothers are married, we’re kind of at an impasse.” 

patton whines, low in the back of his throat. “so - so what do we do?” 

“i have found a loophole,” thomas says. logan sits upright, leaning forward, eyes gleaming with interest. “there are positions in the court that hold statue equivalent to that of nobility. one of them is court mage, and the other is court oracle. if we appoint virgil to either or both of those positions, he’ll essentially hold equal status to that of a nobleman. which means -”

“which means we can be married,” logan says. his eyes are bright and shining, and he begins to rock back and forth in his seat. one hand rubs at his pants in a fixed, repetitive motion. 

“what is he doing?” patton asks roman, softly. 

“stimming,” roman responds, voice soft and fond. “he does it when he’s really, _really_ happy. he never does it in front of people, but he’s . . . i love seeing him happy like this.” 

“once virgil wakes up, we’ll tell him the news,” thomas says. “we’ll have a ceremony to appoint him to a court position, and then we can start planning the wedding in earnest.” 

“if we’re going to be planning for a wedding, i suppose i’d better begin planning for a proposal,” roman teases. patton’s pale face goes pink, and roman grins to see it.

* * *

“is he alright?” logan asks. he’s changed into a comfortable dark blue shirt with sleeves long enough to hide the way he stims nervously with his fingers. remy is carefully applying herbal poultices to virgil’s bared chest as emile grinds leaves together with a mortar and pestle. 

“he can’t drink the magic revitalization tea because he’s unconscious,” emile says. “so we have to get him to heal enough to get him conscious, and then we can dose out the tea. describe to me what happened, again?” 

“it was . . . incredible,” logan says softly. “he was siphoning energy from the bandits that he hit, and then he gave it back to our warriors to heal their injuries and restore their strength. it - it was . . . i do not have the words to describe how awesome it truly was.” 

emile frowns. “babe?” remy asks, touching his hand. “i know that face. what’re you thinkin’?”

“it sounds like a rare form of battle magic,” emile says. “i’ve heard of it, in legends past, but i didn’t know there was anyone who could still use it. it’s instinctual, you’re either born with it or you’re not, and it can’t be taught, only controlled.”

“will it always do this to him?” 

“no, prince logan,” emile says. “with time, he will gain a handle on his magic, and while he will still be tired afterwards it will not affect him with such severity.” logan sighs. 

“might i sit with him?” 

“course,” remy says. 

“i should warn you, prince logan, that you should not expect consciousness from him for at least forty-eight hours,” emile says. “he dangerously overextended himself. he must rest.” 

logan’s heart sinks a little, but he nods. “i understand. i am glad he is still alive.” he pulls a chair up to virgil’s bedside and carefully takes his hand. virgil’s face is smooth and unworried, and logan can’t help the tiny smile that spreads over his face. 

“heal well, my darling. i will be here for you, from now until forever. i promise. i am planning for a proposal, do you know that? i wish to make you my husband properly, and when i propose to you i will make you feel as though you are the only man in the world. because you are the only man in the world, for me, virgil. i will have no one else by my side.” 

virgil breathes, slow and even, and logan gently squeezes his hand.

* * *

patton is on cloud nine, even as they walk to the infirmary to check on virgil. roman is next to him, hair still damp from his bath, wearing a clean red shirt with light blue embroidery around the hem and sleeves. he’s holding patton’s hand, fingers laced together, and nate is on patton’s other side. 

“you look happy, sir,” nate says. patton grins.

“i am happy,” patton says. “i - you’re wonderful, nate, of course, but i missed roman _so much_ i -”

“i understand,” nate says. “i’m happy to see you happy, sir.” roman squeezes patton’s hand, and patton squeezes back. 

his good mood sinks a little bit when they enter the infirmary. remy greets them, bowing his head in respect to roman. “prince roman.” 

“how is he?” patton says, clinging to roman’s hand. “how - how’s virgil?” 

“he’s exhausted magically and physically,” remy says. “he’s gonna be asleep for at least two days, and then he’ll need to drink a few buckets of that magic replenishing tea, but he’ll be alright.” patton sighs in relief, leaning against roman. “prince logan is with him. he hasn’t left his side since they came here.” 

patton blinks. “that’s . . . that’s so sweet!” 

“you can come in and see him,” remy says. patton nods, and remy points them in the right direction. they walk through the rows of beds together, but roman stops before they actually get to virgil’s bed. patton turns to him in confusion. 

“roman, wh -”

roman places a finger over patton’s lips. “listen,” he whispers. patton turns, and looks, and listens, and gasps. virgil is tucked into a hospital bed with his shirt off and covered in patches of green and white. there’s a wet cloth laid over his forehead, and prince logan is sitting at his bedside. he holds virgil’s hand in both of his, and he is singing. 

“[ _this hill i’ll die on is about ninety meters of brick,_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eapTDC5es_4)

[ _colored indigo and inscribed with my name and lined with cedar,_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eapTDC5es_4)

_but the words fall flat like_

_cymbals crashing, like molars gnashing_

_cause like constellations a million years away,_

_every good intention, every good intention,_

_is interpolation, the lines we drew in the array,_

_looking for the faces . . ._ ” 

logan’s voice is low and smooth, and patton presses a hand to his mouth. he had heard, of course, that the second prince was trained to sing and play music, but he had no idea that logan was so _good_ at it. he sings to virgil, and roman carefully leads patton up to the bedside. logan lifts his head and stops singing when he notices that they’re there. 

“you’re such a good singer!” patton gushes. logan blushes pink. 

“of course he is!” roman boasts. “that’s my brother!” logan turns from pink to scarlet, but he’s rocking back and forth a little bit in his seat, so patton knows he’s at least a little bit happy. 

patton reaches down and gently touches his brother’s shoulder. “wake up soon, okay vee? we miss you.” virgil’s chest rises and falls, and patton pulls up a chair of his own to wait. quietly, logan begins to sing again.


	12. pattonella xii: in which the author hijacks her conveniently comatose character for magical shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: comatose character, minor angst, mention of sleep deprivation  
> the song referenced in virgil's visions (linked in the first one) is "soldier, poet, king" by the oh hellos because ya girl is a predictable bitch

“you should rest, prince logan.” 

“i will not leave,” logan says. his back and neck hurt like hell from sitting in the same place for hours on end, and his voice rasps from the near-constant litany of song he’s been providing to virgil, but he makes no move to leave his chair. virgil’s hand is pressed between his, cool and limp. 

“virgil will be alright,” remy says. “the magical exhaustion coma sucks, yeah, but it’s not going to kill him. we’ve pumped him full of as much healing magic and medicine as he can stomach, and he’s going to be okay. he’s going to wake up, and you’ll want to be awake and coherent enough to see it.”

“i will persevere.” 

“you will collapse from sleep deprivation, is what will happen. you don’t have to leave the infirmary, but you’re going to be _in_ the infirmary if you don’t eat something and sleep.” 

logan opens his mouth to protest, but remy draws himself up to his full height (which is not much) and says, “you may be the prince of this kingdom, but i am your _doctor_ , and so _help me gods_ you are going to _eat a damn meal_ and you are going to _take a damn nap_ before i force-feed you a sleeping potion.” 

logan blinks, startled, and remy holds firm, crossing his arms. “did i fucking stutter?” 

“no,” logan says, voice quiet. remy sighs, reaching out to mess up logan’s hair. logan sputters indignantly, but remy has always been a parental figure to him, so he doesn’t protest. 

“your worry is admirable, prince logan, but virgil would not want you to run yourself ragged like this. remember his concern when you had a concussion?” 

“of course i do. he doted on me every hour of the day, remy. how can i say that i did not do the same for him? virgil is - he - i -” logan’s jaw works open, closed, open closed as he tries to form a coherent thought from the tangled mess of _virgilworryconcerncarelove?_ buzzing around in his head. 

“you don’t have to say it,” remy says. “i’m married, remember? i’m familiar with what it means to love someone.” logan startles, practically jumping out of his chair. remy laughs, shifting his hand to gently squeeze logan’s shoulder. “no need to sound so offended.” 

“it’s not offense,” logan says. “it - it’s just -”

he trails off as his gaze slides back to virgil’s peaceful face and the even movement of his chest. “virgil has not had many positive things in his life. he had to deal with a suboptimal family life, constantly sacrificing himself to protect patton, and i - i just want him to see - to know that he does not have to constantly sacrifice himself for people to earn their love. i need him to know that he does not have to throw himself into the line of fire to protect his loved ones. and - and i do not want him to feel rushed into admitting that he cares for me. i do not want to presume that i know he loves me, because i do not!” 

“trust me, prince logan, that man is head over his god damn heels for you.” remy smirks, confident, and logan exhales shakily. 

“but i do not wish to rush it. i know that we are supposed to be marrying so that thomas can officially become the crown prince, but - but i cannot _force_ him to marry me. i hope that he wants to marry me, i - i want to marry him, eventually. i do.” it’s the first time logan has ever admitted it out loud; remy’s eyes widen and his face softens. “but i cannot force him to marry me if he does not love me. i will not trap him in a loveless marriage.” 

“please,” remy scoffs. “you cannot look at this man, laying in a hospital bed because he drove himself to _magical fucking exhaustion_ to keep you safe, and tell me that he does not love you.” 

logan squeezes virgil’s hand tightly, exhaling. his eyes feel like lead. 

“you need to sleep,” remy repeats. “the bed next to virgil’s is open. get in and lay down and go to sleep, okay? i promise i’ll wake you at the first sign of trouble.” logan looks at virgil again and sighs, closing his eyes. 

“very well, remy.” he leans over and kisses virgil’s forehead, carefully sweeping his bangs off his face. “you wake me at the _very first_ sign of trouble, you understand me?” 

“of course, prince logan.” remy bows, deep and sarcastic, and logan suppresses a smile.

* * *

virgil frowns, looking around. he’s in the middle of a blank black void; it looks like the place where he sees his visions, but no visions appear to him. “hello?” he calls. something floats towards him - a girl’s voice, high and ethereal, singing softly. 

[ _there will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword . . ._ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MzVKsltzYdI)

suddenly, a vision slams into him: roman, clearly no older than two years old, wearing a red baby onesie and holding a little wooden sword. he toddles toward virgil without seeing him, waving his little sword around and giggling. a pair of hands reaches down and gently stabilizes roman when he nearly trips over an unseen obstacle. 

_past_ , his brain whispers. 

_he will tear your city down, oh lei oh lai oh lord . . ._

another vision: roman, sitting cross-legged on a bed with patton settled into his lap. he’s rubbing patton’s back and murmuring softly into his ear, probably reassuring him. virgil can’t hear anything they’re saying, but he catches the shape of patton’s mouth as he very clearly says “virgil.” roman smiles, kissing his forehead, and virgil smiles. he’s glad someone is taking care of patton while he’s unconscious.

_present_. 

_oh lei, oh lai, oh lei oh lord; he will tear your city down, oh lei oh lai oh lord . . ._

a third vision: roman, much older, probably fifty or so. his hair is streaked with gray, and he’s managed to grow a full beard. it’s neatly trimmed and also greying. roman wears formal attire, a suit with a breastplate and a cape. he has various badges and medals attached to his chest and a sword that virgil recognizes as ceremonial hanging from his waist. roman looks to the side and smiles, offering his arm. patton steps forward, taking his arm, and virgil gasps as he sees the way his brother has aged. 

somehow, patton still looks similar, even though he’s clearly aged. his hair is long, less gray than roman’s and more silver and braided off his neck with flowers. there are crinkles of laughter around his eyes. he’s wearing a sparkly blue-and-gold dress with red flowers embroidered on it, and he has a small golden circlet matching roman’s more ornate one. patton is still wearing roman’s pendant around his neck, and when roman places his hand over patton’s on his upper arm virgil spies a matching gleam of wedding bands on their fingers. 

_future_. 

the visions fizzle away, and virgil sinks back down into sleep, still clinging to the image of his brother and his husband in the future.

* * *

patton wakes up slowly. he’s still getting used to the idea that he doesn’t have to sleep on the floor, that he doesn’t have to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn and drag himself into bed at midnight. he wakes up warm and comfortable, sinking into a downy mattress, vision hazy from sleep and lack of glasses. 

he yawns, blinking to try and clear his eyes as best he can, and freezes when he hears someone else breathing beside him. he feels a weight on his waist over the duvet, and someone stirs next to him, the arm on his waist starting to pull him closer, and then patton remembers. 

roman is home. roman is _home_ and he’s _here_ with patton, in patton’s bed, snuggling him and keeping him warm. patton flips over onto his other side, and comes face-to-face with roman. the youngest prince is still asleep, his hair flopped into his eyes, mouth open. a small puddle of drool is growing slowly on the pillow, and he’s not wearing a shirt, revealing his smooth, tanned collarbones. 

patton kind of wants to bite them. 

he snuggles closer to roman instead, blushing bright red, pushing his face into roman’s hair. roman snorts in a breath and presses himself closer to patton. his nose is chilly when it brushes against the warm skin of patton’s neck, and patton shivers a little. 

he dozes in the comfortable warmth of the bed (his bed, roman’s bed, _their bed_ ) until roman wakes up with an undignified snort, narrowly avoiding cracking his head against patton’s chin. “mm-mngh-wh-pat?”

“morning,” patton says. he’s practically giddy with joy, and he can’t stop the laughter from spilling out of him, high-pitched and embarrassing. roman smiles at him, sleepy and lazy and so, _so_ besotted, and patton’s pretty besotted himself. 

“oh, vision of loveliness, star that outshines the rising sun,” roman begins, carefully propping himself up on one hand while keeping the other draped around patton’s waist. “loveliest of flowers, shining with the morning dew, face covered with a galaxy of freckles, visage that could launch a thousand ships and set a city ablaze with the light of your smile -”

“stop, stop!” patton laughs, burying his face in his hands. 

“pull your hands from your face like a flower unfurling to the sun, how will i kiss your pretty face if you hide it from me?” 

“but i’m embarrassed!” 

patton feels roman gently wrap his fingers around patton’s hands, carefully peeling them away. “there’s my lovely patton, there’s your pretty face,” roman croons, leaning in to brush their noses together. “may i kiss you, my dearest?” 

patton giggles again. “you may.” roman takes his time, carefully pressing a kiss to the center of patton’s forehead, then the left side, then the right; he kisses patton’s eyelids, his cheeks, his nose, his chin, and almost every freckle he can find. finally, he leans in and presses his mouth against patton’s. both of them still taste like sleep and morning breath, and it’s not the best tasting kiss patton’s ever had but he still treasures it. 

“i’ve missed waking up to that,” roman says. “you are much better to wake up to than a field tent.” 

“was this a one-time thing?” patton asks. 

“kissing? i certainly hope not.” 

“no, no i mean - this.” patton gestures to the bed. “you sleeping in here, with me. is this a one-time thing? do we have to sleep apart?” 

“not if you don’t want to.” roman looks bashful, eyes skittering away from patton’s to look at his chin. “do - do you want to?” 

“ _absolutely_ i do,” patton says, words spilling out in a rush of breath. “i _hate_ waking up alone, i - even though i didn’t really have a bed or a bedroom before i was always with virgil, and i - please, ro, _please_ -”

“oh, darling, of course.” roman reaches up to touch patton’s face. “i wanted to make sure you knew that you had your own space as necessary, because you didn’t have any of that before. but if you don’t want to be alone, you _never_ have to be alone again. i promise, patton, i promise, i promise i _promise_. i swear it to you on my birthright as the third prince of this kingdom.” 

patton feels tears running down his face, and roman carefully wipes them away. “no tears, my darling. i am here now.” 

by the time nate comes in with breakfast, they’ve fallen asleep again, tucked into each other.

* * *

virgil rises back to awareness slowly, opening his eyes to the same black void he’d seen earlier. he frowns; another vision? they usually don’t come so close together. before he can ponder it any longer, the same haunting female voice from before comes echoing around him. 

_there will come a poet whose weapon is his word . . ._

a vision, suddenly: logan, barely a year old if that, laying on his back. he’s wearing a dark blue footed onesie patterned with stars, reaching up towards a mobile dangling above him. he’s giggling, opening and closing his little fists repeatedly as he tries to grab the little wooden moons and stars and swirling carvings. he kicks his little feet, and virgil feels his heart swell with joy. 

_past_. 

_he will slay you with his tongue, oh lei oh lai oh lord . . ._

another vision: logan, looking the way he did when virgil last saw him. he’s sitting at virgil’s bedside, holding virgil’s hand. he’s pale, with circles beneath his eyes, and he’s murmuring something to virgil’s comatose body. virgil reaches toward the vision, but it evaporates before he can touch logan. 

_present._

_oh lei, oh lai, oh lei oh lord; he will slay you with his tongue, oh lei oh lai oh lord . . ._

a third vision: logan is sitting at a desk, surrounded by stacks of books and papers. he pushes a hand through his bangs, sighing; his hair is longer now, gathered into a ponytail at the base of his neck and shot through with silver. he looks tired, reaching for his quill to sign whatever’s in front of him. he turns his head to the right, as though someone has called for him. 

virgil can barely believe his eyes as he steps into view. he’s wearing a dark blue shirt with a purple vest, both embroidered with silver. his hair is longer and starting to grey, but he leans in to kiss logan’s head and logan reaches up to touch his face with love in his eyes. virgil gasps as he recognizes that just like his vision of patton and roman from earlier, future-him and future-logan have matching wedding bands. 

_future_.

* * *

logan wakes up blearily, rubbing his eyes. he jolts awake the second he regains control of his faculties, throwing off the thin hospital blankets and jerking around to look for virgil. he sighs in relief when he sees that virgil is in the bed next to him, still slowly breathing, still sound asleep. “how long was i out?” he rasps. 

“like, four hours,” remy says, carefully placing a fresh washcloth over virgil’s forehead. “not nearly long enough, but i’ll take it.” emile comes in from the garden, carrying a steaming teacup in his hands. 

“is that for me?” logan asks. emile nods, handing him the cup. he sips it slowly, letting the honey-sweet taste slide over his tongue. “thank you, emile.” 

“you’re welcome. it’s no replacement for sleep, but hopefully it’ll help you a little bit.” 

before logan can respond, there’s a noise from virgil’s bed. logan nearly spills his tea as he twists around to try and see what’s happening. virgil’s face scrunches up, nose wrinkling, and his mouth moves slightly. 

“wh - virgil -”

“. . . soldier . . . mighty sword . . . tear . . . city down . . .” virgil mumbles. his fingers curl in the blankets as his face smooths out again, sinking back into sleep. 

“what was that?” 

“it is possible that he’s having some sort of vision,” remy says. logan frowns, reaching over to gently touch virgil’s shoulder. 

“i’m not sure that i enjoy the sound of that vision . . .” virgil turns his head just slightly, catching logan’s hand between his shoulder and his chin. logan’s heart melts into a puddle of emotion-goo as he leans over to kiss virgil’s forehead. 

“oh, my dearest one.” virgil makes a soft, incomprehensible noise and his face smooths into calm sleep again. logan reaches his other hand up to carefully stroke virgil’s cheek. “rest well, my darling, and heal. i long for the day i can see your eyes again.” 

“sap,” remy teases.

* * *

virgil isn’t sure why he’s surprised that a third set of visions comes. his normal visions come in threes - past, present, and future - and it makes sense that he would have a trio of visions. a trio of trio, a group of three threes; three is one of the most potent magical numbers, and the kingdom has three princes for a reason. 

_there will come a ruler whose brow is laid in thorn . . ._

the first vision strikes: thomas, no more than four years old, playing with a cluster of roses. carefully, with his pudgy little child-fingers, he weaves them into a crown and plops it onto his head. it sags askew, flopping into his face, but he just laughs and pushes it back up onto his head. 

_past_. 

_smeared with oil like david’s boy, oh lei oh lai oh lord . . ._

the second vision: thomas, flopping onto his bed in exhaustion. someone comes up and sits on the bed next to him, an advisor that virgil vaguely remembers from earlier, when he’d stormed in on the court with a vision of roman’s death burning in his eyes. he thinks their name is joan? they place a hand on thomas’s back, and thomas sighs, sitting up and smiling at them. his mouth forms the shape of the words _thank you_ , and joan offers the crown prince a hug which he eagerly accepts. 

_present._

_oh lei, oh lai, oh lei oh lord; smeared with oil like david’s boy, oh lei oh lai oh lord_ . . . 

the third vision: thomas, sitting on the throne. he’s older, wearing the king’s crown in place of his crown prince circlet. it fits perfectly. he wears a shirt woven from rainbow threads that shimmers in the light, and he has a golden scepter twined with flowers in his hand. someone comes up and kneels before him, and thomas inclines his head. he looks like a true king - wise, just, strong. a good ruler. 

_future._

virgil lets himself fall unconscious again.

* * *

“how long has he been here?” 

“three days,” logan says. “to be more precise, it has been seventy-three hours, eighteen minutes, and twenty seconds. he has been unconscious for one-hundred twenty-one hours, eighteen minutes, and twenty-four seconds.” 

“that’s not good, is it?” patton says. he holds one of virgil’s hands and logan holds the other. roman stands behind patton. one hand resting on his shoulder. patton tips his head and sighs when he feels the warmth of roman’s hand press against his cheek, a comforting, grounding weight. “that he’s been unconscious for so long.” 

“not particularly. statistics show that the longer patients are comatose, the . . .” logan swallows, hard, but patton leans forward and he continues. “the longer the patients are comatose, the less likely it is that they will recover.” 

patton feels his heart sink down to the deepest pits of his stomach. nate, standing at the foot of the bed, makes a soft upset noise. “would you like some tea, lord san - um, uh, i - i mean - patton, sir?” 

despite how shitty he feels, patton lifts his head and smiles at his servant. “tea would be wonderful, nate.” he looks up at roman. “do you want anything, dear?” roman’s eyes widen in shock, and patton gasps when he realizes what he’s done. “i - i mean, um -”

roman’s entire face softens like a newborn lamb, and he leans in to kiss patton gently. “tea sounds lovely, my darling.” patton blushes a bright, burning red, turning to look at logan to try and quell his blush. 

“i would not say no to some tea,” logan says. “could you, perhaps, see if the cook has any sweet buns prepared fresh as well? with some of her fresh jam?” 

nate bows. “of course, your royal highness.” 

“there is no need for such formalities. you may simply call me logan.” nate jerks upright, stammering. 

“wh - n - i - i couldn’t possibly! i - i mean - uh - that - that is to say - i - um - wh -”

“it is alright,” logan says. he smiles kindly at nate, which puts patton at ease. “i understand that it may be a bit of a shock to switch from formal titles to none at all. however, i must insist that at the very least, you call me prince logan.”

“prince roman works just fine for me as well.” 

nate looks overwhelmed with all this new information, but he manages to stammer out an “o - o - of course!” before turning around and all but _sprinting_ to the kitchens. 

“you make him nervous!” patton laughs. 

“i find that is a common theme.” logan seems disgruntled. 

“i’m not scared of you!” that brings a smile to logan’s face, and patton considers his job done for the moment. 

nate returns quickly with a tray containing a steaming teapot, teacups, sugar, cream, and honey. another serving girl follows him with a basket of steaming buns covered by a cloth. there’s a jar of jam and a butterknife tucked into the basket as well. 

“thank you,” logan says, taking a roll and tearing into it with vigor. 

“of course, your royal highness.” the serving girl curtsies and sets the basket down at logan’s feet. “will you be needing anything else, your royal highness?” logan shakes his head, mouth full of bun, and the serving girl ducks out of the infirmary. 

nate carefully pours tea for patton, adding the cream and honey that he’s learned patton loves, and then offers a cup to roman. “how do you take your tea, your - prince roman?” roman smiles. 

“two sugars, a splash of cream, please, nate.” 

they sit and sip their tea quietly for a while. logan on his own eats about five or six sweet buns before he takes a break for air or tea. in all the excitement of the tea and snacks, patton almost misses virgil’s eyes squeezing shut. 

almost. 

“virgil?” 

logan sets his teacup down so quickly it sloshes out onto the floor, leaning forward. virgil groans softly and turns his head back and forth. “virgil, dearest, beloved, it is alright. take your time, i’m here.” patton watches the way logan tenderly brushes hair off virgil’s face, hears the soft way in which the prince speaks to his brother, and leans a little further into roman, smiling; he’s glad that virgil has found someone so lovely to love. 

after a few more minutes of fussing, virgil slowly opens his eyes halfway. “mmmngh . . .” 

“hello, beloved,” logan whispers, tearing up. patton notices that he’s tapping his feet against the floor, rocking back and forth just slightly in his seat, and he hears roman make a soft, approving noise at his brother’s happy-stims. 

“lo?” 

“yes, beloved. it is me. patton is here too, and roman. we’re all here for you.” 

virgil’s head turns toward patton, and he can’t stop himself from crying either. “virge,” he chokes, all but throwing himself forward to hug virgil. he feels virgil press his face into his hair, and patton hugs him as best as he can. 

it feels like he’s just been cut loose from a massive anchor bound around his ankles. 

**Author's Note:**

> come scream at me on tumblr!! // [@teacupfulofstarshine](https://teacupfulofstarshine.tumblr.com)


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